


In place

by someslug



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Authority, Blood and Violence, Choking, Daryl is not Negan, Deepthroating, Discipline, Dom/sub, Education, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Good Manners, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Needs, Negan is a neat freak, Obedience, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Rewards, Rules, Self-Esteem Issues, Serving, Sexual Content, Torture, breakfast is the most important meal of the day, encouraging desired behavior, finding freedom through submission, natural Dominance, natural submission, positive reinforcement, positive stimulation, subbie training, unprotected sex - don't try this at home kids, verbal!Negan, virgin!Daryl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-14 18:08:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 59,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9197450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/someslug/pseuds/someslug
Summary: Daryl Dixon is nobody's bitch, but when someone recognizes his true nature, he falls into place like the missing piece of a puzzleAU after 7x03Negan doesn't have to use violence to put Daryl in his rightful place, while Daryl learns quickly that everyone has reasons and a story behind and not every killer is a monster.





	1. Bread crumbs

**Author's Note:**

> 'The measure of a man is what he does with power.'

After four weeks in his cell, Daryl was given some work to do. Simple tasks at first, like cleaning floors, stairs or toilets. He didn't mind. It was better than sitting all day in isolation and gave him the opportunity, to get to know the buildings and routines of the people here. He made a lot of mental notes for later, when he would try to escape and go back home.  
After a while, he was sent outside to unload trucks and take care of the fence. For a week, they let him cut firewood. And one day, he even got to repair a car, after showing some expertise with engines.  
He helped to replace three windows after a storm. He painted some walls. He worked in the laundry room, the storage, the kitchen, the dining hall and Ruth, a woman with a missing finger, had asked him for his help in the garden, to pick zucchinis and pull up weeds.  
Days, weeks and months went by. Daryl had started to fall in his new routine a long time ago. He got up, washed his face, went to get his small breakfast, and couldn't help but hope that his name would be on the schedule on the wall in the dining room. It meant he had a job for the day and he would not have to sit around, alone with his thoughts.  
On day 184, Daryl took a bite of his dry wheat roll, while reading the handwritten plan hanging on the brick wall. Reading wasn't exactly one of his superpowers, and this horrible handwriting did not help. After three minutes, a small ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, when he found his name. He went a step closer and squinted his eyes to decipher the word written behind. "Ll-llib," he murmured to himself, and startled as some guy showed up behind him, pointing with his finger on the schedule, impatiently.  
"You're on library duty today, man. Wesley is out on a run for new books."  
Daryl gave the guy a puzzled look.  
"What? Go get to it! Building A, second floor." The guy gave Daryl a little push in the back and left.  
Daryl hesitantly went up one of the metal stairs, taking another bite of his role. He had no idea the Sanctuary had a library. And why on earth would anyone want him to work there.  
He made his way over the gallery, another three steps up, around a corner, down a corridor, through a heavy door and walked with his bare feet through a staircase, another ten steps up, through a further heavy door with a big red A painted on it.  
On the other side of the door, the rustic factory look was successfully hidden by carpeting, painted walls, some plants, framed paintings and expensive looking lamps. Daryl felt instantly out of place, as he walked down the quiet hallway, his feet cushioned by a thick, grey carpet that covered the whole floor. He walked slowly, not sure where he was supposed to go now. In all his time here, he had entered building A just twice. Once, to deliver some chairs from the storage, and the other time he had to serve a tray of food in one of Negan's private rooms.  
He looked around the walls and doors, for a sign that might say something like 'books' or 'library'. He didn't see any, but one of the doors was open and revealed several dark wooden book shelves. He entered the room, mumbling a little "Hello," but couldn't see anyone. The room wasn't too big, but comfortably warm and quiet. Grey walls and carpeting as in the corridor, some plants and lamps, three arm chairs and a round table, with a big pile of books. Daryl looked around, put the rest of his breakfast roll next to the book pile on the table and cleaned his mouth with the sleeve of his sweater.  
He moved one of the chairs half an inch and picked up a dry leaf, that was on the carpet, in front of one of the plants.  
"What are you doing here?" A young woman asked as she stepped in the room, looking surprised at the unfamiliar person with the bare feet.  
"'M s'pposed to work here." Daryl muttered from underneath his too long hair, shifting uneasily from one foot to the other, holding up the dry leaf.  
"Ok." The woman put a few more books on the table. "You can put these away, the shelves are in alphabetical order." It was the only instruction she offered before leaving the room again.  
Daryl watched her go and went to the table, grabbing the first book of the pile. He looked at the cover, trying to read the title. "Planet Earth." He stared at the words and then at one of the shelves. Alphabetical order? Would this one go under P or E? He found another book with a planet on the cover and placed the book about Planet Earth behind it. Then changed his mind and pulled it back out. "P," he said to himself and tried to read some of the other book titles on the shelf. "P."  
"Wo!" A loud male voice made Daryl spin around. "What do we have here?"  
Daryl looked up, and at the sight of a tall man in leather jacket, lowered his gaze. "'M s'pposed to work here." he explained again, almost inaudible. He didn't see Negan very often and sure as hell never talked to him.  
"Is that so?" Negan came closer, taking the book out of Daryl's hand, looking at it briefly and putting it between a book about pancake recipes and one about plants in arid climate. "Daryl, right?"  
Daryl looked up, trying for a confident expression. "Yeah."  
"You are here for a while now, right?"  
"Hm." Daryl shrugged, not sure what to say. It wasn't that long and his escape was planned very carefully in his mind already.  
"Do you think I have to worry, boy, that after all this time, you still haven't internalized the rules?"  
Daryl shrugged again, trying to look away as the taller man entered his private space. His mind racing frantically, but couldn't come up with any rule he might have broken.  
"Well." Negan smiled, shaking his head. "Don't be so hard on yourself, we all learn at our own pace. Right boy?"  
Daryl shrugged a third time, this time just with one shoulder, while he tried to make himself as invisible as possible.  
Negan sighed and walked off, making himself comfortable in one of the arm chairs. "Go on," he waved with one hand, "continue your work, I'll watch you a bit."  
Daryl felt a hot mass forming in his stomach. He hated to be watched. And being watched by Negan, while having to sort books alphabetically, was a little piece of hell.  
He walked towards the table, slowly taking a book off the pile, staring horrified at the cover. Like a billion words were written on it in capital letters. He began to read the first one, "Gabriel," he whispered to himself, looking nervously to the shelves, "G"  
Negan watched the other man a moment, before holding out his hand. "Give me the book please."  
Daryl did, feeling heat crawling up his skin, invading his face.  
Negan looked at the book. "It is 'One hundred years of solitude', " he held it out for Daryl to see, pointing at three of the words in particular. "See, above the actual title, is the author of this book. It's Gabriel Garcia Marquez."  
Daryl fumbled with the fabric of his loose sweater, not knowing how to react.  
Negan looked up at him, trying to make contact with the hidden eyes underneath the too long bangs. "Do you understand?" He raised his brows.  
"Hm." Daryl did something similar to a nod of his head and reached for the book. Negan gave it to him.  
"It is O. The second shelf to your right."  
Daryl made two steps to the left.  
"To your right." Negan repeated. "The second."  
Embarrassed, Daryl went in the other direction, his eyes frantically searching for book titles starting with O. When he had placed the book between two others, Negan said calmly, "Good job, Daryl."  
Daryl wanted to run away, back to his dark cell where no one was looking at him or made him do stupid tasks.  
"Next one." Negan said, patting the table with his hand.  
Daryl took one, reading the title silently.  
"Aloud please. What's the title."  
Daryl huffed nervously. "Le pe petit-"  
"Le petit," the other man corrected in perfect french, "Le petit prince. It's a french novel about a little prince." He waved his fingers twice. "Show."  
Daryl handed him the book.  
"Look, this time the title is very prominent, and the author is written very small, here on top."  
Daryl actually looked at the words he was shown, and nodded his head, taking the book back.  
"Please put it under P, for petit prince."  
Daryl knew already where P was, from his first book. He put it in its right place quickly.  
"Well done." Negan praised and watched satisfied as the other man stood a bit taller for just a second.  
Daryl walked back to the table, reaching for the next book, but was stopped when Negan raised a hand, gesturing a stop.  
"Enough of that. Let's talk about the rules a moment."  
"Yeah." Daryl said, not looking in Negan's face.  
"Well, around here, we take the rules very seriously. It's the foundation of the Sanctuary and the new world order. The rules, and respect." He paused, watching Daryl carefully.  
"Hm." Daryl mumbled, still not sure what this was all about.  
"I treat you with respect, right? I give you a roof over your head, I give you food," he flicked the half eaten wheat roll on the table, "I allow you to work for me, I even teach you something useful."  
Daryl stood still, not knowing what to say.  
"Are you paying me respect in return, boy? Because it didn't look like it when I entered the room."  
Slowly Daryl understood. He saw the other people of the Sanctuary kneel, on the few occasions he saw Negan speaking to them or just walking by. They did it without being told. "Kneelin'," he mumbled."I forgot."  
"But did you forget?" Negan leaned forward, trying again to catch Daryl's hidden gaze. "Or do you not want to kneel for me. Because, boy," he stood up, "I do not want you to kneel, when you don't feel that I deserve that much respect."  
Daryl looked up a bit, meeting Negan's eyes for a second. "'didn't forget."  
Negan smiled cheerfully. "Your decision."  
"Yeah." Daryl wiped his sleeve over his nose, eyes down again.  
"Great," Negan said, walking towards the door. "But the rules," he stopped and turned around again, "Are something different. You have to follow them or you are in serious trouble."  
Daryl nodded.  
"So please, don't put your food without a plate on my precious table, next to my precious books. And leaving crumbs on my precious carpet," he pointed with the tip of his boot on a trail of bread crumbs on the floor. "is a biiiig No-No." He raised his voice a bit, sounding more stern now. "Right?"  
Daryl nodded.  
Negan sighed. "Speak when you are spoken to."  
"Yes." Daryl said quietly, wanting to be in his cell again. "I will... eat in the dining room then."  
Negan looked at the other man with a slight smile, squinting one eye for a moment. "Very good, boy. That's how I like it." He walked to the door. "Please clean your mess up and finish the books."  
And off he was. Daryl immediately dropped to his knees, collecting the bread crumbs he had spilled all over the grey carpet.  
\----  
In the evening, back in his cell, after sorting books for almost six hours and eating dinner in the dining hall, a nameless man opened his cell door, handing him a book.  
"Negan wants you to read this."  
The door was closed again and Daryl looked confused at the book cover. 'I Can Read - 10 fun Stories for new readers'. It was an elementary school reading book. A flash of embarrassment shot instantly through his body, followed by confusion, why someone would want him to learn reading.


	2. Stupid boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl Dixon is nobody's bitch but when someone recognizes his true nature, he falls into place like the missing piece of a puzzle
> 
> AU after 7x03

On day 201, Daryl was working in the kitchen. He had breakfast duty.  
If there was one place he felt even more out of place than the fancy carpeted building A, it was the goddamn kitchen. He had no idea what to do, constantly forgot where things are, and was told every 2 minutes that he should work faster. All of it made him feel stupid. He hated it.  
"Come on, asshole, where are the eggs!"  
Daryl made a mental note to kill that fucker Dwight on his way out, once his big escape day came, and started cracking the first of 10 eggs on the brim of a silver metal bowl. Unsuccessfully, because some pieces of the egg shell landed in the bowl, while most of the egg white was on the counter top. "Shit." He muttered under his breath, trying with shaky fingers to fish some of the shell pieces out of the bowl.  
"Would you fucking use a spoon?" Dwight yelled and threw a spoon in the other man's direction, hitting his shoulder. "You know Negan is very particular about kitchen hygiene!"  
Daryl shot Dwight a warning glare, but took the spoon to continue his work.  
After the third cracked egg with the same result, Dwight lost his patience and pushed Daryl aside. "Go make the coffee, fucker, I don't want to get punished because of your stupidity!"  
Daryl stumbled, shot Dwight another deadly look and went to the other end of the kitchen. He studied the coffee maker a moment, testing some buttons and looking for pieces that would maybe come off and hold the coffee powder or water. He rattled at a plastic piece in the back and a metal piece on top. "What the hell."  
"What now dumbass?!" Dwight yelled, whisking the eggs like a chef.  
"Nothin' ." Daryl grunted, pulled again at one of the pieces until it finally moved, and with it the whole machine. The glass pot slid out of its place and crashed on the floor in a sea of tiny shards.  
"Shit, what are you doing?!" Dwight ran across the kitchen, yelling in Daryl's face like a maniac. "TRYING TO GET BOTH OF US KILLED?" He grabbed the back of Daryl's head, slamming his face with force into the wall. "YOU FUCKING STUPID MORON!"  
Daryl spun around, landing a fist precisely accurate on Dwight's nose, making the other man scream in pain.  
"HEY!" The kitchen door shot open and a deep, stern voice echoed through the big room. "What exactly do you think you are doing!"  
Blood running from their noses, panting in rage, both men stopped instantly, facing the tall man in leather jacket.  
Dwight's hand grabbed a handful of Daryl's sweater, pulling him down with him, as he dropped to his knees. "It's his fault, he's too dump to scramble some eggs or make a fucking pot of cof-"  
"Stop." Negan said in a low voice, putting his baseball bat dangerously close under Dwight's bleeding nose. "Did I ask for story time?" he raised his eyebrows. "I don't think I did. But I was waiting in the fucking dining hall, at a fucking filthy table, not cleaned to my fucking standards, for my fucking breakfast." He pushed Lucille in Dwight's chest. "You wanna know how long I was waiting?"  
Dwight shifted nervously in his kneeling position. "I think... you... ten minu-"  
"TOO. FUCKING. LONG." With each word, Negan pushed the tip of Lucille into his man's chest. "Too fucking long, Dwight. And then, when I actually have to get myself into the kitchen, like a fucking housewife, I have to watch you two ladies engaging in a cat fight, instead of fixing my breakfast!" He raised his voice dramatically, swinging his bat around like a hiking pole. "Which, as even you will know, is the most fucking important meal of the day!"  
Dwight lowered his head submissively.  
"RIGHT?"  
"Right, of course." the kneeling man said quietly. "I'm sorry, it wouldn't have been a problem if he-"  
"Enough." Negan rubbed his forehead in annoyance and waved Dwight off. "Go, fix my fucking eggs before I feed yours to the fence brigade. And wipe your nose. Don't want any of your bloodsnot in my food."  
Dwight nodded and got up hastily, getting back to his work.  
Daryl wanted to do the same, but was stopped by a leather clad hand.  
"You? Stay."  
Daryl stood firmly, even looking up a bit, trying to brace himself for what would come.  
"What is all this." Negan pointed his bat to the broken glass pot on the floor. "Your fault?"  
Daryl shrugged, "Yeah."  
"Hh." Negan nodded. "Why is it your fault. Explain please."  
Daryl looked down, caught off guard.  
"Did you ever make coffee?" The taller man asked in a serious tone. "Or eggs?"  
Daryl shrugged again, avoiding his gaze.  
"Speak when you are spoken to, boy." Negan said patiently.  
"No." He shook his head, feeling humiliated.  
"And were you taught how to make coffee or eggs since you are here?" Negan said, speaking loud enough for Dwight to hear it damn well. "Did anybody explain this machine to you?"  
Daryl pulled up his left shoulder to rub his cheek against. "Not yet."  
Negan looked at him and nodded after a moment. "Dwight!"  
"Yes?" Dwight looked up from the pan where he was preparing some scrambled eggs with bacon.  
"Breakfast in 30 minutes in my private room. No disappointments this time!"  
"Yes, Sir." the man nodded, flipping a slice of bacon.  
"And you," Negan pointed at Daryl with his bat. "follow me."

\------------------

"Does your nose hurt?"  
"No." Daryl muttered, walking quietly next to Negan through the empty corridors.  
"Good. How is the reading exercise going?"  
Daryl sniffed and rubbed his bloody nose in the sleeve of his sweater, but didn't say anything.  
Negan stopped in front of him. "Have you received the book?"  
Daryl took a step back, feeling trapped somehow. "'s a stupid kids book." He hissed defiantly.  
Negan stared at him. "No it is not. It is a book for people who want to learn how to read properly." Furrowing his brows, he added, "Just like you."  
Daryl looked at his bare feet, not saying a word. A mixture of anger and embarrassment heating up his insides.  
Negan reached out his gloved hand, placing two fingers under Daryl's chin, moving it up slowly. "It is not your fault that you can't read properly until now, boy." He didn't have the slightest bit of amusement or sarcasm in his voice. "It is not your fault either, that some idiot expects you to work with a machine you have never seen before, or cook a meal you never prepared in your life."  
Daryl's head was forced up, but he still tried to look anywhere but in the taller man's eyes.  
"Only a dump leader expects his men to do jobs for him without being trained properly." Negan's fingers pushed Daryl's chin up a bit higher, grip hardening. "Do you think I am dump?"  
After a moment, Daryl murmured a very faint "no", and it was the truth.  
Negan did not take his piercing stare from Daryl's face. "That's right boy. I am many things, but dump is not one of them. So, when I give you a book to learn reading, it is because I think you need training. Not because I think you are stupid."  
Daryl had his eyes down, the only thing in his view was a leather clad hand.  
"I want you to serve me, boy. I want you to work in my library. I look forward to the first meal you cooked all by yourself," Negan made a little pause and lowered his voice a bit more. "just for me."  
It felt like one of the gloved fingers would stroke slightly underneath Daryl's chin, and it made him shift on his feet nervously.  
"I believe you can do it." Negan took his hand away, just to move a strand of hair out of Daryl's face. "Look at me." His voice was strict and demanding now. "I know you can do all that for me. And more. But-" he raised his brows, "It will require training first."  
Daryl fought hard to hold the other man's gaze.  
"You want to train to become even better for me?"  
The question made Daryl's stomach flip and his eyes flicker uneasily.  
Negan moved a last inch closer into Daryl's space, breathing on the smaller man's skin. "Answer when you are spoken to, boy. You want to train for me?"  
"'llright?" Daryl mumbled quietly, shrugging his shoulders, making the other man chuckle deep in his throat.  
Negan stepped back, shaking his head, "Well, ALLRIGHT, my boy, I think we have a deal then."  
Daryl looked at his feet again but nodded his head. "Hm."  
"Good, very good. You have no idea how proud that makes me." Negan turned around, making his way down the corridor, patting his thigh after some steps, without looking back. "Daryl! Follow me I said."

\------------------------------

After a good five minute walk through the endless labyrinth of the Sanctuary, Negan raised his hand, signaling for Daryl to stop.  
He knocked at a door once with the tip of his bat, not waiting for an answer before he opened and let himself in. An elderly woman looked up from her book. She was sitting in a big dark-green arm chair, a cup of tea next to her on a small table. She seemed a bit surprised to see someone in her room and took her glasses off. "Good morning."  
"Rosemary!" Negan said cheerfully, "How are you doing my old girl."  
The woman didn't answer the question, but looked behind Negan, where a shy man in prison gear waited in the door frame. "Who is this?"  
"This, Rosemary my dear," Negan said, guiding Daryl in the room with Lucille behind his back, "Is my good boy Daryl." He pushed him a bit forward. "Daryl, don't be rude. Say hello to my friend Rosemary."  
"Hello." Daryl grunted out, standing uneasily in a room smelling like old lady and lavender. It was like walking through a portal into another dimension.  
"Actually, Daryl," Negan said placing his hand on Daryl's back, "Rosemary was a teacher in her younger years. She is also a fucking great cook." He moved his hand on the smaller man's shoulder, squeezing a little. "I think she is exactly the right person to teach you one or two things."


	3. the Germans

On day 203, Daryl washed his face, put his book carefully under the thin blanket he was given and went to the dining hall for his breakfast. It was a small bowl of oatmeal today and actually much better than the dry wheat rolls they handed out most of the other days.  
Daryl scraped the last bits with his fingers out of the bowl and licked them clean one by one, before wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his dirty sweater. He did not notice, when one of the women on the table next to his, shot him a disgusted look.  
After putting his empty bowl back on the dish cart, he went to the brick wall with today's job schedule. His name was the very first on the list, which had never happened before. Next to his name he could read, in surprisingly clear handwriting, -Training with Rosemary - 8 AM-.  
He really did not like that. Doing a cleaning job was easy and he could do it quietly by himself. But sitting the whole day face to face with another person, being forced to speak, give answers and reveal his lack of knowledge, that others usually acquired at school... that was nothing he wanted to do.  
For the first time, he considered to just not follow the work schedule, to go back to his cell, and to wait for the punishment that would most certainly follow.  
On the other hand he really wished, he could read a whole book. To really read it, not like a big book of riddles, but an actual story that would take his mind off things for a change.  
He walked back in the direction of his cell block, but changed his mind in the last moment and took a different hallway. Following the very small voice in the back of his head that told him, he had a deal to train and become better. For Negan.  
He felt disgusted with himself, but then thought all the extra training and new abilities could help him to escape sooner. Maybe Rosemary could even help, by giving him some background information about Negan and the Sanctuary. She seemed nice.  
He had no problem to find the way back to her room, all the corridors, stairs and doors were clear as a street map in his mind.  
In front of her small apartment he paused a moment, clearing his throat nervously. He knocked, telling the door far too quietly, "It's Daryl."  
Nothing happened for a very long time, then the door opened slowly and a little old lady peeked through the door crack. "Oh hello, I thought I heard something." She smiled, letting her visitor in.  
Daryl didn't say anything, walking with his bare feet on a brown carpet with floral design. A strange Lavender scent invading his nose.  
The lady closed the door behind him and rummaged around in her pocket, finding a small note. "There it is." She pushed the glasses back on her nose, "It says you come at 8 AM."  
"Hm." Daryl nodded, looking through his bangs. "Trainin'."  
"Well, sit down, honey." Rosemary said, guiding him to her dark-green armchair. "Would you like a cup of tea?"  
Daryl sat down awkwardly, eyeing the small crotchet blanket on the armrest like it could bite him.  
"Well, of course you want tea, just look at you." Rosemary decided, not waiting for an answer and made her way to the tiny kitchenette. "Tell me, darling, are you a soldier or a war prisoner?" She grabbed a cup and her tea kettle. "Your outfit looks unfamiliar to me." She looked back at him with a friendly smile. "Would you like one spoon of sugar or two?"  
Daryl had no idea what to say or do, or where to put his arms. "No thanks." He mumbled.  
"Of course you need a bit sugar, sweetheart." Rosemary clarified, shoveling two spoons in, and carried the steaming cup back to her guest. "There you go, be careful it is very hot."  
Daryl stared at the porcelain cup in his hands, feeling a bit ill.  
"So, honey tell me," the lady sat down on an old sofa, folding her hands in her lap. "what would you like to learn? It is quite a while since I had a student. It was long before this terrible war."  
"The war?" Daryl looked up, confused by her comment.  
"Oh yes, before the war I lived with Robert in our apartment." She smiled at Daryl. "Robert was my husband. He was the art teacher at the local high school. He loved his job."  
Daryl just stared at her, holding the cup in his hands like a raw egg.  
"Where did you live before the war started, honey?"  
"There's no war." Daryl mumbled, pulling his shoulder up to rub his ear against it. "What are you talkin 'bout."  
"Oh honey." Rosemary looked apprehensively at her guest. "Are you suffering from amnesia, have you been badly injured by the Germans?" She shook her head in sympathy. "Oh these evil people. I bet that is why you are here, right? These are hospital clothes. You poor thing. I am so glad that Negan was able to find this safe bunker."  
"How do you know him." Daryl grumbled, angry that Negan actually had the nerve to lie at the nice old lady, what a bastard.  
"Oh, he and his wife were teachers at the school where my Robert and I used to work. They were such a lovely couple. It is a tragedy that she had to die so young. Cancer, you know darling?" She looked at Daryl with a sad little smile. "But when this horrible war started, Negan brought me here, to the bunker."  
"Hm." Daryl gave a slight nod, not knowing what to say.  
"It was too late for my Robert, though. The Germans got him." She looked down, hiding her watery eyes.  
"'m sorry." Daryl offered, feeling like he had stepped into Twilight zone.  
"Oh, we had a long and very happy life." She said, wiping her eyes with a thin tissue behind her glasses. "You should drink your tea, honey, it will get cold."  
Daryl nodded and took a sip.

\--------------------

Two hours later, Daryl tried his very best to read a recipe for sponge cake.  
"Now we added the sugar, what is next, honey?" Rosemary asked her student. "Isn't it wonderful how nicely we combine reading and baking, all at the same time?" She giggled amused, stirring with a wooden spoon.  
"Sep...sep," Daryl huffed, not sure how he had ended up in this situation. "Separ..."  
"S e p a r a t e," the old lady helped him out. "Don't you worry, it is a difficult word."  
"Separate," Daryl repeated quietly, putting the old cook book higher up to his face. "Four eggs."  
"Now that is the exciting part!" Rosemary promised with a laugh, handing the young man an egg.  
\-----------------------  
As evening came, Daryl had filled his stomach with three cups of tea and four pieces of cake. He had also read a full recipe for sponge cake, had completed some writing exercises, had been brave enough to read a couple of sentences out loud to Rosemary, and was finally walking back through the labyrinth of the Sanctuary, with a piece of freshly baked cake. For Negan.  
Rosemary was very determined, about how Negan would surely enjoy a nice cake after all the hard work he is doing here all day. Daryl had to promise her that he would receive it.  
It took him almost ten minutes to make his way from Rosemary's rooms to building A. It was late and dark outside. And also very quiet, when Daryl opened the heavy door and stepped with bare feet on the thick grey carpet in the corridor.  
He had seen one of Negan's private rooms before, when he had to serve food there. So he decided to place the plate with the cake in front of the door, in hope that someone would find it eventually. He looked around, walking along the hallway, trying to be as quiet as possible.  
When he found the right door, he froze. It was wide open and a tall man in leather jacket was inside, sitting at a large desk, writing something with a very serious face.  
He wasn't sure what to do, standing with the plate in the door frame.  
"What do you want!" Negan finally barked, not bothering to look up.  
"Rosemary sends cake." Daryl mumbled, holding the plate a bit higher.  
"What." The older man glared to the door. "Speak up, if you have something to say, boy!"  
Daryl raised his head defiantly. "Rosemary wants you to have this. And why do you lie to her anyway," he added disparagingly, "she's just a nice ol' lady."  
Negan placed the pen on the papers he was just writing on, looking at the other man coldly. Then he got up, grabbed his baseball bat and walked slowly to the door, not taking his eyes from Daryl's face.  
"Because," he snarled in a low voice, much too close for comfort. "she is just a nice old lady. That's why."  
He eyed his visitor a moment longer before he stepped aside, pointing Lucille in the direction of the windows. "I will have the cake on the couch."  
Daryl lowered his gaze and walked across the room, placing the plate on the coffee table in front of the couch. When he turned around to leave, Negan was already behind him, pointing Lucille at one of the chairs opposite the black leather sofa.  
"Sit."  
Daryl let out a deep breath, but did as told.  
Negan threw Lucille on the sofa, grabbed the plate and made himself comfortable.  
After two bites he looked at Daryl. "Did you make it yourself?"  
"Hm." Daryl mumbled, looking on his knees.  
"It's very good. Thank you."  
Daryl didn't answer or move.  
Negan took another bite. "What did you learn today, besides baking cake for me?"  
Daryl shrugged his shoulders. "Readin'."  
"What else."  
"Writin' somethin'." the other man mumbled quietly.  
Negan tipped his head to the side, placing the almost empty plate on the table, all the time staring at his visitor. "It's cool that you do that for me, Daryl. I really appreciate the effort."  
Daryl sniffed, wiping the back of his hand over his nose.  
"You want to do me another favour?"  
Daryl didn't answer.  
"Please speak in full sentences with me." Negan leaned forward, folding his hands. "I hate it when people give me just some scraps of conversation."  
Daryl didn't reply, his eyes flickering nervously under his too long bangs.  
"You want to do me that favour?"  
"Yeah." Daryl shrugged, wanting to be in his cell, reading his book, to have his mind somewhere else.  
Negan corrected. "Yes, I would like to do you that favour."  
Daryl put his left foot on the right one, fighting with himself and the hot mass forming in his stomach. "Yeah..." he said quietly. "I'd like to do it."  
"But that's not true," Negan almost whispered, a signified smile on his lips. "You do not like to do it... because it is hard and makes you uncomfortable." He moved a bit closer to the edge of the couch, his leather jacket making a squeaking sound. "Isn't that right boy?"  
Daryl nodded, looking on his knees. "Yeah." and after a moment added. "'s true."  
Negan looked pleased about the mumbled addition. "You don't like it, but you want to try your very best." He lowered his voice in a more serious tone. "You want to do it for me."  
Daryl rubbed his shoulder against his ear.  
"Isn't that the truth, boy?" Negan gave the other man a piercing stare. "Do you want to do me the favour and speak for me in complete sentences from now on."  
Daryl nodded.  
"I know." Negan said. "You want to be good." He took the plate and held it across the table. "Take this with you, eat the rest and tell Rosemary thank you."  
Daryl peered through his bangs and reached for the plate. "Yeah."  
Negan raised his brows, not letting go of the plate.  
"I'll tell Rosemary thank you." Daryl said quietly, feeling weird in his stomach.  
"Good job." Negan said in the most serious voice, letting go of the plate. He got up and went back to his desk. "Please close the door behind you."  
Daryl got up, mumbling, "Yeah, I close it.", feeling oddly proud of himself, all the way back to his cell.

On day 203 Daryl fell asleep after eating the rest of Negan's sponge cake, picking up two crumbs that had fallen from the plate, and reading a whole page in a new readers elementary school book.


	4. Vikings

On day 215, Daryl was on double duty, like the past 6 days. 

In the mornings he had to serve in the dining hall, cleaning tables, mopping floors, writing down points for the food he gave out and taking dirty dishes into the kitchen.

After a short lunch break, he was supposed to work in the Sanctuary's barber shop, which was basically a simple room with two mirrors, two chairs and some utensils to cut hair and trim beards. Most people could not afford to pay the points for a hair cut or professional shave. But the better situated people in the Sanctuary used the service frequently. Some on daily basis. Like Dr Carson or Negan's wives. 

Daryl's job was to keep the blades sharp and the floors clean. A couple of times he was allowed to wash the women's hair, and he hated it with a passion. He was never into those spruced up people. He thought make up and all those hairspray-hairdos looked silly. And touching women in such a private manner made him very uncomfortable.

The only good thing about the job in the barber shop, was Doyle, who was a real hairdresser, before all the world went to hell.  
He was in the Sanctuary almost from day one. For some reason, Negan had found him entertaining and useful enough to keep him around. He had never seen much of the zombified world, but knew a lot of funny or tragic stories about the pre-apocalyptic world. 

Daryl liked to listen to him. Doyle had talked about a trip to Africa, a royal wedding in England, his neighbors from Poland who hosted the best parties in town, and his favorite Italian Pizza baker, who loved to sing Italian operas while spinning the pizza dough on his fingertips. 

Since Daryl had never left the state where he was born, he soaked up Doyle's tales like a sponge. He could have listened for hours and was so fascinated by some of the things he heard, that he had dreamed about them at night. And that was something that was completely new to him, since he usually wasn't a person that dreamed at all. Nightmares sometimes, but certainly nothing nice or adventurous.

That was why on day 215, Daryl couldn't wait for his breakfast duty to end. At around 10:30 AM, most people had cleared the tables and Daryl was mopping the floor in exceptional speed. He just cleaned around the last table, when every person in the dining hall dropped simultaneously to their knees, right on the wet, freshly mopped floor.

Daryl rolled his eyes, wiping a stubborn strand of hair out of his face. He looked up to the gallery, where a man in jeans and white t-shirt talked to a woman he had never seen before. 

It was the first time he saw Negan in jeans and without his leather jacket. He watched a moment longer and then quickly dropped his gaze to the floor, when Negan turned away from the woman, to overlook the dining room, obviously liking the sight of people kneeling on wet floors for him. He grinned widely, shaking his head, and after a moment whistled soundly through his teeth.

Daryl looked up a bit startled, only to meet Negan's amused expression.

Negan gestured a thumbs-up in Daryl's direction, smiling his most cheerful smile, before he disappeared from the gallery, and everyone got up from the floor and continued whatever they had done before.

Daryl blinked, dipping his mop blindly in the water bucket, not sure why his stomach felt a bit funny.

\------------------

Seven hours later, Daryl's shift at the barber shop was almost over. 

It had been more busy than usual. Two women wanted their hair cut and four guys had come for shaves and beard trims. Doyle also made Daryl sharpen all the blades and clean the mirrors. Twice. Because Daryl left stripes all over the glass the first time.

But Daryl didn't mind the work. Doyle had told fantastic stories, from the day he saw New York for the first time and went sight seeing and shopping. He told about a trip to a big Swedish furniture store, where he used to go with his friends to eat meatballs and hot dogs. And he had spoken about a vacation in Iceland, where he claimed to have met some real Vikings.

Daryl imagined them with huge wooden ships, fur clothes and long beards, even though Doyle described them more civil looking and obviously very beautiful.

"I tell you," the hairdresser said, waving a hand around, holding scissors and comb at the same time. "All the beard and muscle... I thought I died and went to heaven!"

The woman in the chair seemed to understand him perfectly well, while Daryl gave the floor a halfhearted sweep with his broom, wondering if Iceland would be affected as well from the Outbreak and how Viking Walkers would look like. 

"What do you think pumpkin?" Doyle said, looking at his customer in the mirror, "Will the hubby be pleased with my work?" He fluffed the girls hair up a bit, just to comb it down again a second later. "I think it's very Milan 2003."

"It's perfect!" The girl said, turning her head from left to right to see it all a bit better. "He will love it!"

"Oh, he sure will." said the large man, entering the room with a baseball bat over his shoulder. "Although, what he really likes about you darling..." he grinned, leaning from behind over his wife's shoulder to whisper in her ear, "... is hopefully properly shaved."

The woman rolled her eyes and pursed her lips annoyed at Negan's image in the mirror.

"Barbarian..." said Doyle, taking the styling gown off his customer, shaking his head. 

Negan laughed, looking at Daryl for support. "Really? Don't tell me I'm wrong." 

Daryl, not knowing what to say, looked quickly on the floor to finish his sweeping job.

"Man, you know it's the end of the world when a man can't make a good joke about his wife's pussy." Negan seemed honestly disappointed and let himself fall in the free chair. "Here," he held Lucille out for his wife to take. "Since you are finished, take her to my room and prepare something to eat for her, Amber and me."

The woman didn't comment her task, just took Lucille and left the room.

"Women, hu?" Negan shrugged, looking at the mirror where he could see Daryl's image. "Having several of them really doesn't make life easier." He sighed dramatically. "Not that any of you would know what I'm talking about."

"Excuse me?" Doyle said offended, placing a fresh gown on Negan's upper body. "Cindy Miller? Almost 6 months in my second year of High school!" He fixed the collar around Negan's neck. "I was a wild one."

Negan grinned, still looking at the guy with a broom in the mirror. "And what about you, boy... had a sweet lady before the dead dudes roamed the earth?"

Daryl moved the broom over a perfectly clean floor, holding on to it like his life would depend on it. After a moment he shook his head, not daring to look up.

"Baby," Doyle said, stirring with a brush in a small bowl of shaving cream, "Don't let the big grumpy cat break your spirit. We are all the Lord's precious shiny lightning bugs."

Negan sighed again, rubbing his eyebrow. 

"It's true." Doyle grinned. "Now what will it be today for the big boss? The usual trim or maybe something more daring?"

\-------------------

Ten minutes later, Doyle was about to finish trimming the ends of Negan's thick black hair. 

Negan watched the process quietly in the mirror, then waving with two leather clad fingers, for Daryl, who stood in the background. "Come here."

Daryl came closer, feeling more than uncomfortable.

"I was thinking to shave this shit off," Negan rubbed his chin. "but I can't quite decide." He looked at Daryl in the mirror. "Tell me what you think."

"Dunno." Daryl mumbled from underneath his long bangs, fumbling nervously with the fabric of his dirty sweater.

"No." Negan said in a serious voice, sitting up straight in his chair. "I asked you for your fucking opinion, so tell me what you think."

Daryl looked to the side, heat of desperation flooding his chest.

Doyle watched the scene, combing the hair on the back of Negan's neck, not daring to intervene this time.

"So?"

Daryl took a step back, gesturing with his hand. "I like it." His words were almost inaudible, but Negan didn't make him repeat it.

"What do you like, boy."

"Y' know." Daryl muttered, looking up a bit. "The beard."

Negan smiled slightly and slowly turned around in his chair, directly facing the man next to him. He raised one eyebrow, waiting.

He was rewarded after half a minute with a mumbled, but complete sentence. 

"I like your beard." Daryl said, eyes on the floor. "You should keep it."

"Oh thank the LORD!" Doyle threw his hands in the air. "I was really worried for a second that I would have to shave this beauty off." He put his scissors away. "What a waste it would be!"

"Good job, Daryl." Negan said in the most serious tone, turning his attention back to the mirror.

"But a trim and some facial hair pampering is still on the menu, right?" Doyle said, having his utensils already in hand.

"Absolutely." Negan grinned smugly. "Show Daryl how I like it. We want him to learn something useful, right?"


	5. Belongings

On day 222, Daryl saw that someone had his name and task crossed out on the work schedule. 

His first reaction was to look around, embarrassment making his face flush. The paper had his name, along with the tasks, -Training with Rosemary- and for the afternoon, -laundry duty-. 

But for some reason, all of it was crossed through with a red colored marker. 

Daryl's stomach cramped. Was he not good enough? Did he not do a good job the last time? Did he break something again? Did Rosemary not want to teach him any longer?

Suddenly he wasn't hungry anymore and let his unfinished wheat roll fall in one of the trash cans. Now all he could do, was sitting the whole day in his empty cell, all by himself, thinking about stuff he didn't want to think abo-

"WO!" 

Something hard and pointy poked in his back, making him stumble. 

"What the fuck are you doing, we do not waste food here!"

Daryl's eyes flickered startled when suddenly a large, angry man in leather jacket stood right in front of him.

"BOY!" Negan yelled again, right in the smaller man's face."I said. We do not waste food here, are you deaf!" He banged his baseball bat on the metal trash bin with force. "Get it out!"

Daryl ducked his head, trying to pass the other man without eye contact, and with shaky fingers fished the dry wheat roll out of the garbage.

"Thank you!" Negan barked and like switching off an angry hair dryer, he continued in an absolute calm tone. "Now, why did you throw the food away, that I am generous enough to offer you, so you have a fair chance to survive this gruesome apocalypse. Please enlighten me."

Daryl was so taken aback by the whole incident, he actually felt ill and dizzy.

Negan saw his shaking fingers and rapidly blinking eyes. "You don't want to tell me?"

"My name 's crossed out." Daryl mumbled almost inaudible. "Some'ne did it."

Negan drew his lip in, nodding his head. "No one needs you today?"

The younger man nodded his head once, feeling defeated.

Negan pulled a red marker out of his leather jacket, holding it out for Daryl to see. "I crossed your name out."

Daryl looked up, not saying anything. His throat felt too tight to breathe.

Negan grabbed him by the shoulders, moving him in front of the schedule. "Sorry, I did not do it correctly." He put his arm over Daryl's shoulder, writing in perfect hand writing behind the crossed out name. 'Daryl is out with Negan. All day'. Negan smiled, speaking right next to Daryl's ear. "We lost three men yesterday. Need someone who knows how to fight the dead guys."

Stepping two steps back, he tucked the pen away. "You wanna do that for me? Slaughtering some walkers so I can go about my business?" 

"'can do that." Daryl shrugged, still looking at the paper on the wall.

"Excuse me?"

Daryl turned around to face Negan. "I help you."

Negan shot him a smile, squinting one eye. "I am betting you do that." He wandered off, pointing Lucille backwards to the dry wheat roll in Daryl's hand. "Now feed that disgusting thing to the chickens, and I'll get you a nice pair of boots." 

\------------------

On day 222, not long after breakfast time, Daryl sat in the passenger seat of Negan's truck, wearing a brand new pair of socks and black combat boots in perfect size for him. He wriggled his toes in them, looking down at the shiny new leather.

"Open that." Negan said, gesturing to the glove box. "There are some apples inside. Eat."

Daryl did as told. It was the first apple he had in at least 222 days. He devoured it.

Negan gave him a side glance. "Eat another one."

"Hm." Daryl looked at the man behind the wheel. "Where are we goin'?"

"Two of my men are trapped in an outpost. Overrun by the dead folks."

"Hm." Daryl thought a moment about it, chewing his apple. 

"What? Having something to say, fruitboy?"

"No." Daryl mumbled. "Jus' why are you doin' it yourself. ' s all." He gestured with his hand. "You have all those men."

"Are you under the impression that I don't fight at the front?"

"Mh." Daryl shrugged. 

"Careful." Negan grunted.

Daryl was quiet, eating his second apple. This was by far the best job he had in 222 days.

\-----------------------

The outpost was a one hour drive away from the Sanctuary. They could smell the herd long before they saw it.

Negan parked his truck in a safe distance. The other men following his example.

"As soon as we leave this truck, you stay next to me at all times." Negan told Daryl, handing him a knife and gun. "Try to run off or pull some funny stunt and you will regret it."

Daryl took the weapons and couldn't help to notice the hurt feeling poking in his guts.

"Understood?" Negan raised his brows, looking the other man straight in the eye.

Daryl gave a slight nod.

"Good boy." Negan patted Daryl's cheek with a leather clad hand and jumped out of the truck. "Let's kill some corpses."

\------------------------

It felt good to be out there again, to do something that he was really good at, probably better than most of Negan's men. Sure, they did the job, but not as fierce and effective as Daryl.

Negan himself, on the other hand, was a force of nature. He mowed through the herd like an animal, each hit a winner. 

Daryl stayed close to him, having his back. Just for one moment he fell behind, when one of the other men lost his weapon. Daryl helped the guy, throwing him his own gun. 

Immediately a feral growl resounded through the typical walker gnarls. "DARYL!" Negan didn't even look back, smashing a walkers head in with his bat, "HERE I SAID!"

Daryl fought his way back with fists and knife alone. Not wanting to be back in his cell at all today.

\------------------------

It was a long and exhausting fight, but they managed to get both of the trapped men out in one piece. 

Daryl was surprised to see that one of them was not much older than 17. The other missed a hand. Not exactly the most valuable fighters Negan could ask for, but obviously still worth enough to drive for an hour and kill half a herd of walkers.

Daryl helped to load some things from the lost outpost up in Negan's truck, dragged some dead walkers off the street and climbed back on his seat, waiting for Negan, who talked to one of his men. Daryl watched him through the rear view mirror, noticing all the blood splatters and slightly tousled hair.

When he came back, he hopped on the drivers seat, throwing Lucille on Daryl's lap, starting the engine without a word.

After half an hour drive in silence, he reached out and slapped the back of Daryl's head. "A fucking leash for you next time."

\-----------------------

Back at the Sanctuary, Daryl did not help to unload the truck or take the weapons for a clean up. 

He stayed glued to Negan's side. While Negan talked to Simon, while Negan checked a box of ammunition from the outpost, while Negan walked up the metal stairs and inside the factory. 

Negan stopped on the gallery, looking down at his kneeling people. "We have been successful. Blake and Will are back. One free item out of the storage for everyone today." 

The people applauded and got back to their feet when Negan waved his hand. 

Daryl watched in silence, not leaving the taller man's side.

Negan put his jacket off, handing it to Daryl, along with his bat. "Clean my jacket, clean my Lucille. Bring them back by tonight." 

Daryl took one in each hand, nodding his head.

Negan pinched Daryl's chin with two leather clad fingers, and then turned around and walked away. "And don't forget to clean my Daryl."


	6. Filthy

Daryl spent the early evening hours of day 222 in the laundry room.

He had cleaned Negan's gooey Baseball bat first, trying not to think about what it had done to people he cared about.   
He rinsed it with clear water several times, scrubbing the barbed part with an old steel wire brush, making sure he dried it as best as he could in the end.

The dirty leather jacket was another thing. He had never really cleaned clothes. Sometimes washed a shirt or pair of pants in water, hanging it out to let it dry. But other than that he had no experience. 

He held the jacket up with both hands, noticing Negan's unique scent. And suddenly he thought the black leather was probably too precious to dunk it just like that into the laundry cauldron. 

Looking around, he decided to ask the red haired woman, who was busy folding bed sheets at the other side of the room.

"How do I clean this." Daryl mumbled, looking at her through his long bangs.

She looked at the dirty jacket, not stopping her work. "Water and soap." 

Daryl had no idea what to do with this information, but didn't feel like asking another question. So he gave her a small nod and went back to his laundry cauldron.

The woman watched him a moment, then huffed frustrated and brought him a small bowl with soapy water and a soft cloth. "Use this. Just wipe it down and dry it good. He will hold me responsible if it's ruined."

"Hm." Daryl took it, making eye contact for half a second. "Thanks."

"Don't fuck this up." She warned, going back to the folding table.

\-----------

After an complete hour, Daryl had wiped the soft leather three times, making sure to remove every spot and splatter of dirt and blood.   
He dried it carefully and even wiped it down with fresh water on the inside, feeling like he would touch something very intimate, which made his stomach clench in a weird way.

Before he left the steamy laundry room, he took an old towel to rub over his face and hands, in an attempt to clean himself. In the end he took the new boots off, cleaned them as well with the old towel and carried all three things outside. 

It was way past dinner time when he finally made his way up the stairs and through empty corridors into building A. The feeling of thick grey carpeting underneath his bare feet made something inside his chest tingle.

Negan's door was closed. Daryl thought about leaving the cleaned stuff just here on the floor, but in the end decided against it, afraid they might not be discovered before the next morning. So he took a deep breath and knocked. 

He heard a "Come in." almost immediately and felt his throat tighten when he pushed the heavy wooden door open.

It was warm inside and a blonde woman in a piece of thin satin clothing was draped over the big leather couch. Negan stood at the window, an open bottle in hand, wearing only pants and shirt.

Daryl's eyes flickered nervously underneath his bangs. "'cleaned them." He held the things he carried a bit higher, almost dropping one of the boots.

Negan put his bottle soundly on a side table, striding through the room with stern face. "Didn't I ask you very nicely to speak in full sentences and to clean my fucking belongings?" 

Daryl couldn't help but flinch and duck his head, with Negan's intimidating voice so close to his face. He wanted to say that he had cleaned everything as he was supposed to but out came just a mumbled "Yeah."

"COMPLETE!" Negan yelled a centimeter from Daryl's head and whispered the next word dangerously low. "Sentences."

Daryl's hands were shaking, one of the boots had dropped to the floor and his nostrils flared with heavy breathing. The fear and shame flushing through him making his head spin.

"Diane!" Negan said, gesturing for the woman on the couch, not even turning around. "Go back to the others, I'll see you tomorrow."

A cloud of floral scent made Daryl nauseous, when the girl walked past him, leaving the room without a word of objection.

Negan sighed, rubbing his forehead with gloved fingers. 

"Really boy, no idea what to do with you." He walked to his desk, gesturing in the air, "I mean you fight like the devil but you are not able to follow simple orders at the same time! Right?" He looked at Daryl, walking back to him, grabbing the baseball bat out of the smaller man's hands. "And look at my girl here, spiffy enough for a night at the prom!" He gave Lucille a swirl, watching her in adoration. "BUT AGAIN!" He barked at Daryl, taking the leather jacket, throwing it in the direction of his desk. "You are NOT fucking able to follow the complete order I gave you!"

Daryl buried his naked toes in the thick carpet, clenching his fingers around the single combat boot left in his hands. He just stared blankly through his long hair, hoping no one would see the wetness forming in his eyes.

Negan huffed a sigh, shaking his head. He went back to the side table, getting his beer bottle and took a large gulp. "Repeat the orders you have received from me today." He sounded tired, like a teacher that had to explain the same thing for the 20th time today. "AND... I strongly advice you to use complete sentences." He added and let himself fall on the large leather sofa, taking another sip of beer.

Daryl didn't want to run back to his dark cell, he didn't want to escape and run back home, he wanted to be an invisible nothing, just gone and vanished from the face of the earth.

After a full minute Daryl's stare was still blank, no word coming from his slightly quivering lips.

Negan watched him, "You forgot my orders?"

Daryl shook his head no.

Negan placed shiny Lucille on the couch next to him, put the empty bottle on the coffee table, sighed and got up. He rubbed the back of his neck with gloved fingers. "As soon as we leave the truck..." he said calmly, meeting Daryl's blank gaze. "You do not leave my side. It means... no running off, no loading trucks, no sitting somewhere around while I'm still busy. Not even taking a fucking piss in the goddamn woods!" He moved closer to Daryl's face, voice dark and low. "It means, Daryl stays right. by. my. side. no matter fucking what."

Daryl met the taller man's piercing stare for a split second, feeling his insides turn. 

"Did you follow that simple order? No you did certainly not."

Daryl raised his head a bit, his words just a faint rumbling. "'tried to. Back here."

"So I've noticed." Negan whispered with a smile. "And I credited it by giving you a new order. I asked you to clean my belongings." He moved Daryl's chin up, forcing eye contact. "Clean my jacket. Clean my Lucille." Negan said, hissing the next words angrily. "Clean my fucking Daryl!" 

A big hot heavy stone sunk in Daryl's stomach, turning his whole body in a big mass of shame.

"So if you care to explain me, boy..." Negan said, sniffing at the crook of the other man's neck and rubbing a strand of dirty hair between his fingers, "Why is my Daryl still so fucking filthy?" 

Daryl felt serious tears welling up in his eyes. In an angry movement, he threw the boot away and took two hasty steps back, bringing his body into a defensive position. "'s not my fault you let me rot in that cell of yours!" he yelled, surprised by his own shrill voice. "Who cares if I'm filthy!" He wiped a hand in awkward motion over his eyes, then waving it angrily at the other man. "'s not your problem, asshole! I'm jus' your fuckin' prisoner!"

The more Daryl raged, the calmer Negan became. "It is my problem." He stated, no sign of sarcasm or amusement in his voice at all. "I like you. You are mine now." He tipped his head to the side, giving Daryl the most serious look. "My belongings are near and dear to me, so I kindly asked you to take good care of them."

"'m not your anythin'." Daryl tried halfheartedly, turning his back to Negan, not knowing what else to do, since the silly carpet did not want to swallow him.

A faint smile moved over Negans lip's. He walked close up to Daryl, stroking a longish strand of hair from his neck, exposing pale skin. "Of course you are." Almost flush to his back, Negan breathed in deeply, leaning his forehead on the back of Daryl's head. "Why did you bring the boots back."

Daryl didn't dare to move. Heat crawling up from his toes, all the way to his face, making his heart beat faster. "They're yours." 

"That's exactly right. They are." Negan said satisfied, not changing his position. "Please go and pick them up for me then." 

Daryl's heart pulsed in his throat, making it impossible to speak, so he just nodded once. But when he tried to move, to gather the boots from where they had landed all over the room, a leather clad hand shot up on his shoulder, holding him firmly in place.

"You'd like to wear my boots, boy?"

Daryl thought yes, but didn't speak.

"You may wear them." Negan spoke in the other man's hair. "You did such a good job for me fighting today." He made sure to move his pelvis forward, making contact with Daryl's backside. "Lucille is clean, my jacket looks like new." He closed his eyes, breathing in Daryl's scent. "And I'm sure you take better care from now on... of my other belongings. Right?"

"Yeah." Daryl said, his rapid heartbeat making him dizzy.

Negan squeezed Daryl's shoulder, hard.

"'ll take care of..." Daryl mumbled, feeling Negan's breath in his hair. "Your stuff."

"Good boooy." Negan praised, and after a last sniff, stepped back, letting go of Daryl's shoulder. "Although," he grinned. "You are not exactly stuff."

Daryl couldn't think straight. He turned around, giving the taller man a quick look before he reached for the first boot and searched for the second, a very loud heartbeat drumming in his ears.

Negan went to his couch, making himself comfortable, enjoying the view of the younger man, hunting for shoe number two. "So, what was that about you actually still living in my cell block?" 

\----------------

At the end of day 222, Daryl Dixon followed one of Negan's nameless men out of his cell. Book, boots and thin blanket firmly in hand. They walked up a different corridor, through a new door, up three stairs, right into a sparsely furnished apartment. Daryl knew the one-bedroom apartments on this floor were for Negan's higher ranking men.   
They were nothing special, but a 4-star room in the apocalypse, and ten times better than every room Daryl had lived in, before all the world had gone to hell.

"Fresh clothes." The nameless guy threw two sets of shirts and pants on the bed. "Shower's down the hallway."

He went out, leaving a still filthy Daryl alone with his boots, blanket and reading book. And two polished red apples on the nightstand.


	7. In place

Day 228 started early. Loud banging at the door and a voice yelling, "Get your ass up, we start in twenty minutes!" ended the night for Daryl.  
He blinked in the darkness. This fucking bed was far too comfortable after all these months on a blank cement floor.

The tour started before sunrise, with seven men in three trucks.  
Daryl was supposed to drive with Simon, who was obviously most trusted by Negan.

"Where are we goin'." Daryl mumbled, not liking that he was sent away to god-knows-where, while Negan himself stayed in the Sanctuary.

"Grocery shopping, honey!" Simon grinned. "Did you bring your little basket?"

Daryl had no idea why this guy was in such a good mood. It was annoying.

"Oh, before I forget," The man with the mustache grabbed the wheel with the other hand, pulling an apple out of his jacket pocket. He threw it in Daryl's direction. "Papa packed you a snack."

Daryl caught it, giving Simon an angry look.

"It's from Negan," Simon shrugged with a happy smile. "He thinks breakfast is the most important meal of the day."

\----

Almost three hours later, the three trucks arrived at a big supermarket, miles from anywhere.  
It seemed very undamaged, like it had been under a glass dome for the past years.

"Now look at that." Simon said, obviously very pleased. "The scouts did an excellent job. I smell the Jackpot." 

"Mh." Daryl agreed.

The vehicles were parked as close as possible to the doors. Two men standing guard, while the others, including Daryl, went in. They were quiet, expecting at least some walkers. They found not one. Instead, they were rewarded by full shelves, not plundered, like a dream come true.

"The land of Cockaigne, my friends!" Simon grinned. "We should have come with more trucks I guess."

Daryl agreed silently. He couldn't remember when he had ever seen this much food. Free to take.

"Well, let's pack all this shit up, boys!" 

\----

A couple of hours later, the trucks were filled to the roof. They had packed all the essentials, dry goods, drinks, cans, toilet paper and candles. All the time debating about coming back the next day, with more cars, to get the rest.

Daryl was sweating, having worked so hard for hours, lifting all the heavy boxes and bottles. He couldn't help but to feel excited, though. It was like finding a treasure.

"Okay, guys!" Simon said, "We are full, let's go."

They closed the doors carefully, still not a single walker crossing their way.

"What do you have there?" Simon asked back on the road, when Daryl stuffed some dark blue bottles of shower gel in his backpack. 

'Cool Kick, for Men. Freshen up and stay cool with this 3-in1 shower gel for Body, Face and Hair.' He had read the advertisement and bottle imprint at the store and thought it couldn't hurt to bring it, since it was free. "Nothin'." he mumbled a little embarrassed, closing his bag.

Simon laughed out loud, stepping on the gas pedal. It was a good day.

\----

It was late afternoon when the convoy arrived back at the Sanctuary. Almost 30 people came to help unloading the trucks, list everything in the books and take it in the storage. 

Daryl helped, but didn't feel well at all anymore, since Negan had joined the men to inspect the pickings. He was obviously very happy about all the glorious findings, patting Simon's back and making manly jokes. But he didn't pay any attention to Daryl. No word, no smile, no yelling or scolding. Nothing.

Daryl was angry with himself, that he even cared about that silly bastard. Maybe he should steal one of the trucks, escape tonight and drive back alone to the store to get all the rest for himself. He could take it all home to Alexandria. They could throw a big party and wouldn't have to go on a run for the next three-

"Hurry the fuck up, boy!"

A deep voice right behind his back startled Daryl out of his thoughts.

"You think you are on coffee break? Stop dreaming! Rosemary waits for you in the kitchen. You are in charge of dinner today."

Daryl turned around, giving Negan a perplexed look.

"Chop chop!" The tall man said, emphasizing the urgency with a wave of his bat. "Go on, she won't get younger." 

Daryl took his backpack and walked inside, trying to ignore the weird feeling floating around in his chest, when he looked back over his shoulder and saw Negan grinning from ear to ear.

\----

Rosemary had taught Daryl how to make English meat pie, like her great-grandmother used to make it after a recipe she brought on a ship to America. Long, long before the evil Germans started this terrible war.

Daryl was actually pretty good at the tasks he was given. Cutting onions, rolling out the dough for the crust, cooking meat. It wasn't that difficult, if Dwight wasn't yelling around all the time. 

Nonetheless was Daryl getting tired. After the long run today he had cooked, helped Rosemary back to her room, had served in the dining room and cleaned the kitchen. His back started to hurt.

"Some Dinner left?" A younger guy peeked into the kitchen. "Boss has too much paper work, he wants to eat in his private rooms."

Daryl looked at the stranger, nodding.

"Half an hour, don't be late."

Daryl watched the kitchen door fall shut and sighed. He was really tired.  
He took a left over pie and marked it with a note. A big 'A' meant it was reserved for Negan himself or someone close to him. No one would dare to eat it.

He rubbed his eyes, walking to his small apartment. Since Negan had made his point clear about filthy people, Daryl felt the need to wash, especially after such a long day. He took his towel, one of the shower gel bottles he had found and went to the communal shower on his corridor.

The water was cold, the floor was dirty and he wasn't sure how he felt about the musky scent of the soap. But he did what the bottle said and used it for body, face and hair.  
On his way out, he took a quick glance at the steamy mirror. The person looking back at him seemed strange and almost unfamiliar. He could not remember when he had seen himself the last time. He did not like what he saw and left the bathroom quickly.

Back in his room, he draped the damp towel over the only chair he had and dropped down on his bed, his tired body instantly reminding him what a luxury it was to rest on a mattress instead of a hard, cold cement floor. He had 16 minutes left until he had to serve the last meat pie of the day, and decided he could close his eyes for three minutes if he would run to the kitchen and run even faster to building A.

\----

Three minutes after midnight, Daryl opened his eyes groggily, his naked skin feeling cold.  
He sat up, looking at the clock on the wall. A flash of heat shot through him immediately, when his sleepy mind processed what time it was. He jumped up, looking around in panic for clothes. He found the grey t-shirt and dark cargo pants, one of the Saviors had given him and put both on. Not bothering for his boots, running out of his small apartment, through the dark, empty corridors, down the stairs, around the corner, through the dark dining hall, into the empty kitchen. He didn't need light to know where the left-over pie was. He grabbed for it, the note with the 'A' fell to the floor, when he ran out again. Up the cold metal stairs, over the gallery, around the corner, through the empty dark staircase and the next heavy door, marked with a big red A. 

As soon as his bare feet touched the grey carpet of the corridor, he slowed down, breathing heavily. The wall lights were on all through the night, for safety reasons.  
He made his way to Negan's door, finding it closed. This time he wasn't sure if he should knock. Afraid Negan could be asleep already, or furious for the more than late dinner delivery.

In the end he did knock. Very softly. No answer came, and he was about to place the plate with the pie on the carpeted floor, when suddenly the door opened.

A large man with grim face towering over him. Wearing a red scarf to his black leather jacket.

In his crouching position, Daryl stared at the heavy boots in front of him.

"Finally kneeling for me?" Negan said coldly. "About time."

"No." Daryl mumbled under his still damp hair, heart beating in his throat. He got up, holding tight to the plate in his hands. "'m jus' bringin' your food."

Negan sucked his lips in, nodding. "Why do you think I'm in need of fucking food in the middle of the night."

Daryl tried to hide his discomfiture. "'was told to serve you dinner."

"Well," Negan said, furrowing his brows, leaning a bit down to look directly in the other man's face. "No need for that. One of my men, who doesn't completely suck at his job, served me dinner, three fucking hours ago." He smiled dangerously. "Imagine that."

Daryl's gaze dropped immediately, his fingers shaking so bad, it was hard to keep hold of the plate. He did somewhat similar to a nod of his head, wanting to leave badly.

"You know, some are actually able to follow simple orders." Negan said, pushing the tip of his bat in the top of Daryl's naked foot. "And some understand the value of a pair of fucking fantastic boots, that's coming from me."

Daryl's lips were twitching, his throat tightening up painfully.

"Go." Negan told him in a very low voice, before turning around, shutting the door behind him.

Daryl turned as well, feeling dizzy and ill. He stared down the corridor, but the heavy door at the end became blurred when his eyes filled with water. Guilt made his stomach turn and his knees weak. He breathed deeply, trying desperately to keep the tears from falling. But once he reached the big A on the solid steel door, the plate with the English meat pie slid out of his fingers, landing with a cushioned thump on the grey carpet.  
Daryl raised an arm in front of his face, covering his eyes, his whole body shaking with sobs. He cursed the fucking shower gel, the silly reading book, the polished breakfast apples and most of all the ugly image he had seen in the mirror today. He was a nobody all his life, too incompetent to really belong anywhere, too useless to be trusted with a real job. The burning shame filling up his chest, almost made him vomit. 

In the background, like 1000 miles away, he heard a door flying open, he heard a curse and a wooden baseball bat being thrown on the floor, he heard heavy boots taking long, angry strides in his direction.

And still he was totally taken by surprise, by the strong hand flipping him around, shoving him into the wall, circling his throat, squeezing painfully.

Instinctively, Daryl grabbed at the man's wrist, struggling to breathe, his other hand curling into a fist, expecting to have to fight his way free.

Negan's eyes stared in his, full of fury. Leather clad fingers moved from his throat to grip his jaw.

"Three hours." Negan growled, deep anger rumbling in each word. "You let me wait. For three fucking hours," he pressed out through gritted teeth. "I sent for you for a reason. And you. Disappointed. Me."

Daryl closed his eyes, lips quivering, helplessly squished between the solid wall and the superiority of Negan's tall body. 

"I don't like that." Negan stated, watching his own fingers tightening on Daryl's jaw. 

He leaned forward, breathing right above Daryl's face, looking fascinated at the dark blond eyelashes, wet with tears. Sniffing the damp hair falling over Daryl's ears, he let out a dark moan when he noticed the fresh, soapy smell. "Good boy."

Daryl sobbed quietly, warm clouds exploding in his chest as he heard the two little words, whispered right next to his ear. The strong scent of leather, beer and a musky cologne invaded his mind before all thoughts he tried to think, shot straight out of his head, when a warm, broad tongue licked slowly over his lips.

"You want to be good for me." Negan said, giving the pale pink mouth another claiming lick. "Do you want to be my good boy, Daryl?" 

Daryl squeezed his eyes shut even tighter. He wasn't sure if his head actually nodded, but he wanted it to.

Negan looked at the smaller man a long time, then stroked some hair aside, planting a soft kiss on his forehead. "I know." He let go of Daryl's jaw, stepping back a bit to give him more room.

Daryl's head fell forward, his face seeking comfort in the smooth surface of a black leather jacket. He was tired. He didn't want to fight anymore. He just wanted everything to be quiet and ok for just a moment. And hiding his face on Negan's broad chest, feeling a strong hand on the back of his head, it was doing exactly that. Making everything seem quiet and somehow ok. 

Negan looked down at the man leaning against him, he stroked his leather clad fingers over damp hair, and after a moment, put just enough pressure on Daryl's head to guide him in his place. He watched from above, as Daryl sunk to his knees, crouching absolute imperfectly on the grey carpet, next to a destroyed English meat pie, forehead leaning against his legs.

It was the worst display of submission Negan had ever seen, but without a doubt the most precious of them all, and there had been many. 

He stood there a while, letting his fingertips brush over Daryl's non filthy hair, enjoying the weight against his knees, where Daryl leaned his head against. "So fucking proud of you." He said it just once, and in really low voice. But every muscle in Daryl's body seemed to relax for the first time in years, maybe for the first time ever. 

\----

It was the very early morning of day 229 when Daryl was back in his one-bedroom apartment, avoiding the comfortable bed, needing to be closer to the ground.  
So he crouched down on the floor next to the bed, leaning his forehead against the side of the mattress, trying to recreate the magical feeling of safety he missed already.


	8. Something to think about

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl Dixon is nobody's bitch but when someone recognizes his true nature, he falls into place like the missing piece of a puzzle.
> 
> Negan doesn't have to use violence to put Daryl in his rightful place, while Daryl learns quickly that everyone has reasons and a story behind and not every killer is a monster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'The measure of a man is what he does with power'

On day 230, Daryl worked on the bread counter in the trading hall. 

He had to cut the fresh loaves of bread, depending on how much points the people wanted to invest. 

After giving the food out, he had to write down everything in the points book. 

Most people were friendly, some were just quiet, some real pricks, but for one in particular, Daryl wanted to jump over the counter to shove an entire bread up his skinny ass.

"Can't you slice it without tattering it completely, idiot?" Dwight said, judging the slightly uneven cut. "I won't pay 7 points for that garbage!"

"Yeah, you will." Daryl muttered, moving the bread over the counter, glaring at the blond guy with pure hate.

"Certainly not asshole!" Dwight huffed a laugh, flipping the bread slice against Daryl's chest. 

"Pay."Daryl demanded, trying to stay calm.

"Or what, dimwit?" Dwight spat, leaning over the table. "Better be careful or I-"

"Dwighty-boy!" A leather clad hand grabbed Dwight's shoulder from behind. "Is there a problem going on?" Negan wore the usual cheery smile on his face and a baseball bat over his shoulder. "I mean, there must surely be a reason why you bitch around like some underfucked housewife in heat, right?"

"It's nothing." Dwight gritted out, trying his best to plaster a forced smile on his lips. "All good." He took the torn bread slice, stuffing it in his bag and signed the seven points in Daryl's book.

"Great!" Negan watched his man walk off, grinning widely before leaning closer to Daryl over the table. "Don't worry, boy. He'll be easier to handle once mating season is over... all the hormones you know." He chuckled over his own joke, strolling off like it was the most beautiful day ever.

Daryl picked up some bread crumbs from the counter, enjoying the warm feeling in his belly, created by a small three letter word.

\----

On day 231, Daryl had to work in the outside area of the Sanctuary, along with 6 other men. 

They had to replace parts of the fence and repair some others. It was a rather hot day and the undead on the other side of the fence reeked more than usual. 

Thick beads of sweat dropped from the men's foreheads. Daryl paused a moment, wiping his arm over his face, suddenly missing the cold water and refreshing shower gel in the dirty communal shower.

"GUYS!" A large man in white t-shirt barked in their direction, baseball bat in hand. "Time for a boot check!"

The men gave each other puzzled looks, as no one had ever heard of a boot check before.

"Well?" Negan stopped in front of them, thudding his bat on the dusty ground. "Show your footsies, Lucille likes them spit shined!"

The first man in row raised his left foot nervously in the air, unsure of what he was supposed to do. 

The man next to him, swallowed and did the same, sweating even more than the heat made necessary. 

Negan grinned, letting Lucille touch each shoe a brief moment. 

Last in line was Daryl. He didn't raise his feet, just looked down on the ground, at Negan's fantastic combat boots.

Negan chuckled, stepping very close, almost touching Daryl's front with his own chest.

"Well, sorry guys." He said, looking in Daryl's face instead of inspecting the foot wear . "But Daryl wins the competition." 

And without any further word of explanation, he walked off again. Whistling a chipper tune.

The men looked at each other, shrugging, holding back any comments, and just got back to work. 

Daryl too. But he was the only one with a rather proud feeling spreading through his chest.

\----

On day 232 and day 233, Daryl had trained with Rosemary in the mornings, and worked in the laundry room in the afternoons. He hadn't seen a glimpse of any black leather jackets or barbed wired baseball bats in 48 hours. 

In the evening of day 233, he went in his small apartment, feeling too angry to read in his school book or take a shower with soap. But he fell asleep, crouching on the floor next to his bed.

\----

On day 234, a grumpy Daryl served in the dining hall. He cleared tables, cleaned the floors, wrote down points and was short of punching a guy who called him a 'filthy mop guy'. 

"Yeah, get lost." he growled at the man, when suddenly everyone around him dropped to their knees. 

He looked up to the gallery, where a tall man watched down, bathing in all the submission offered to him... until his roaming eyes spotted the only guy, standing on his feet midst all the others kneeling.

He furrowed his brows, staring Daryl straight in the face, waiting.

Daryl looked back for a moment, then lowered his eyes, slowly crouching down to the floor, not letting go of the mop handle. He felt heat spreading through his body, with piercing eyes on him.

Negan, up on the gallery, growled deep in his throat, enjoying the sight for a while in silence, before he said a loud and dark "Very. good. job!" to the only person down there, that really sparked his interest. 

He turned around, giving the people a simple, "As you were," when he walked off.

Everyone got back to their feet, continuing their conversations and meals.

All but one guy, who had closed his eyes on his special place on the floor, where his heartbeat almost made his chest explode.

\----

"What do you mean it's impossible?! We. Are. The. SAVIORS! Nothing is impossible as long as I didn't fucking say so!"

A furious, tall man in leather jacket towered over a nameless, shaking figure, kneeling on the floor in building A of the Sanctuary.

"Do you really want to tell me," Negan growled, pacing back and forth, Lucille on his shoulder. "that you are not smart enough to figure out how to do it?" He stopped, leaning down to stare in the man's eyes, almost nose to nose. "Is that what you want to say?"

"N-no Sir." The man stuttered, shaking his head frantically. "But it would b-be really hard to get all the-"

"SAVE YOUR SORRY EXCUSES!" Negan yelled, turning away in deep anger. "It is making Lucille nauseous."

"I can discuss it again with Simon." The kneeling man offered helplessly. "We can come up with another plan."

Negan didn't look at the guy, just waved a hand as a signal to leave. 

The door fell shut and he walked to the windows, grabbing a glass of Bourbon, emptying it in one gulp.

\----

In the evening of day 234, Daryl walked through the empty corridors of the Sanctuary, carrying a bottle of Bourbon.

He had finished his chores, had seen Rosemary for an hour, had cleaned his small apartment, taken a shower and followed now the order of some nameless guy who had told him to bring the boss a bottle of Bourbon from the storage. Not later, not in thirty minutes. Right now.

Daryl had put on Negan's boots and jogged to the huge storage. He found the right bottle in under a minute and immediately started his way to building A. 

He was sure everything was right this time, and still his stomach clenched nervously when he entered the quiet hallway leading to Negan's private rooms. 

He did not have to knock, the door was wide open. One of the women he knew from the barber shop, sat on the big bed, looking at him in disapproval.

Daryl cast his eyes down instantly, not daring to enter the room. The obnoxious stench of poignant perfume made him nauseous and angry.

"Well?" the tall man, sitting on the black leather sofa said, "Don't you want to come in?"

Daryl didn't move or blink, staring silently down on his feet.

"Is he kind of retarded?" The woman on the huge bed wanted to know, seeming annoyed. "Can he not just-"

"HEY!" Two of Negan's fingers shot up, signaling her to be quiet. "No one asked for your opinion, wife." He looked at the silent figure in his door frame indulgently. "Daryl, bring me the bottle please."

Daryl was feeling seriously unwell. Every fiber of his being wanted him to turn around and leave. But in the end, he made his way through the room, heavy combat boots leaving imprints on the thick grey carpet. He could feel the woman's flouting eyes on him, his fingers holding tight to the cold glass bottle in his hands, and when he reached the black leather sofa, and he held out his delivery to Negan, his body was trembling hard.

"Thank you." Negan told him, pride dripping from his dark voice.

Daryl breathed heavily underneath his long bangs, heart drumming in his chest. All he wanted was to be back in his room, on the floor, next to his bed.

"Daryl." Negan said, patting his lower leg. "Here."

A hot flash shot instantly through Daryl's belly, when he realized what he was supposed to do. His eyes started to blink anxiously, chest trembling. 

His legs didn't feel like his own when he lowered down in a crouching position. Making his back as round as he could, head down, eyes closed, he took his place on the floor, close to Negan's leg. 

He could smell the leather of the man's black boots and after a moment let out a shaky breath, when a large hand stroked the back of his head.

"Good boy." 

The two small words were dark and solid and like a lifeline to hold on to.

Daryl didn't listen to the conversation that followed, between Negan and his wife. He didn't care when Simon briefly entered the room with some information about tomorrow's mission. He didn't want to think about where he was and why. All that mattered was the safe bubble that had magically formed around him, as soon as his knees had touched the grey carpet and Negan had placed a comforting hand on his head.

After a while he found the courage to let his forehead sink against Negan's leg, his stomach flipping with the new body contact.

He heard Negan laugh about a joke. He felt him leaning forward to pick up his Bourbon glass and to put it back on the coffee table after taking a large sip. He noticed leather clad fingers toying with a strand of his hair. He liked the way Negan's pants smelled of iron, fresh air and warm skin. He wanted to stay here like this, for the rest of his existence.

"Can you send him out now?" A whining female voice demanded and Daryl sensed that the woman came closer, stepped behind the sofa and leaned over her husband's shoulders. "I thought we would have some fun?"

Daryl tensed and tried to get up, shame flooding his chest. But a strong hand on the back of his head, held him firmly in place.

"Put your pussy back in the box, darling." Negan said, tilting his head on the backrest to look at his wife. "Still got work to do."

"Oh come on," she purred, stroking his hair. "You could do it tomorrow?"

"Don't argue." Negan said, patting her cheek. "Go back to the others."

Pouting, she planted a quick kiss on the top of his head and left the room.

Negan grabbed his Bourbon glass, emptying it in one gulp. "Boy, I tell you, it's not easy to be as awesome as I am." He shook his head, putting the glass with a thud back on the table. "The struggle is real." 

Daryl held perfectly still, not knowing what to say.

"Ksst." Negan's hand slid down the side of Daryl's face, finding his chin to guide his head up. "Look at me."

Daryl stared at the other man through his hair, feeling very uncomfortable.

Negan held the gaze, squinting his eyes a little, the tip of his tongue darting out to touch his lips. "You know what I really want to do for a long time?" He leaned down, eyes firm on his target, when he covered the other man's mouth with his own, kissing him very softly, just a little taste for a brief moment. 

Daryl flinched and jerked back, shock in his eyes.

Negan smirked, keeping hold of Daryl's chin. "You don't want to kiss me?"

"No." Daryl was sure, looking defiantly.

The taller man studied Daryl's face. "How come?"

Daryl blinked, caught off guard, trying to avoid his gaze.

"Tell." Negan demanded, slight amusement in his voice.

Daryl just shrugged.

Negan furrowed his brows. "Who's the last person that kissed you. Tell me."

Daryl looked away, not answering.

Strong fingers pulled at his chin, forcing eye contact again. "Who was it."

Anger flashed through Daryl's blue eyes, every muscle in his body tensing up.

"Say it."

"Joe!" Daryl spat, nostrils flaring.

"Wohoo." Negan seemed surprised, moving back a little. "You really had a boyfriend?"

The man crouching on the floor looked like a wounded animal, jerking his head around to escape the leather clad fingers holding his chin. "Had a dad." He corrected, turning away, heavy breathing making his chest heave. 

Negan's face changed from surprised amusement to grim murder, eyes flashing in a much darker shade. "Is he dead?"

"Yeah." Daryl snarled.

Negan nodded, dead serious. "Good." He watched a while in silence how Daryl fought with his temper and rapid breathing. Then moved to the edge of the couch, holding out his hand in Daryl's direction. "Come here."

Daryl wanted to be back in his room, or better yet back in the dark cell. But in the end he moved back closer to Negan, shame and anger keeping his head down.

"Forget about it." Negan said, widening the space between his knees, guiding the crouching man between his open legs. "It's an order."

Daryl didn't answer and kept his eyes down.

"I'm giving you something new to think about." Negan took Daryl's head in a secure hold, pulling him closer, breathing in the scent of the other man's skin, rubbing with his nose over Daryl's cheek. "You're mine now." He growled, lightly brushing with his mouth over Daryl's lips, and when he licked them with a deep moan, thriving in the taste, Daryl froze, letting out a nervous sigh.

"Sss." Negan shushed, stroking his fingers comforting over Daryl's cheek and behind his ear. He groaned again when his lips made contact with a warm, wet, innocent mouth. His tongue demanding entry this time, slowly sliding it between pale pink lips. 

Daryl's head was spinning, feeling Negan so close, tasting him, made him whimper quietly, unable to process what happened. Rough beard against his skin, firm hands holding him in place, strong lips claiming his mouth. He held his breath a moment, then letting it out, shakily breathing into Negan's mouth, making the tall man harden the grip on his head.

And when it was over, just like that, his tongue darted out searching for Negan's taste, missing it instantly.

"You taste as good as you smell tonight." Negan decided in a low dark voice, feasting on the sight of Daryl's flushed, dazed expression.

Daryl moved his gaze from Negan's mouth, up to his eyes, and dropped it then, shame and insecurity taking over again. 

"Good boy." A predatory smile formed on the tall man's face, very pleased with himself and his impact. "Now you have something to think about."

\----

On day 234, Daryl didn't sleep on the floor next to his bed. 

He was wide awake underneath his thin blanket, on a far too comfortable bed, his mind racing, his stomach feeling funny, his lips still tasting like Negan.


	9. Abandoned

On day 235, the Sanctuary was like a disturbed beehive. 

Everyone was busy and stressed out. A huge mission was planned for today, almost every vehicle they owned stood ready at the gates. Simon seemed tense when he talked to a group of men about the strategy for a last time. Others carried weapons, ropes and flashlights. Dr. Carson loaded a car with first aid equipment.  
Some of the Sanctuary's common people stood by, watching the scene with serious faces. Most likely, not all of the men would come back safely. The tension was nerve wrecking. 

Daryl wasn't told what the mission was about, but rumor had it, that the plan was to subdue a newly discovered community. A big one, more than a two hour drive away from the Sanctuary. 

It made Daryl angry and sad, reminding him of why he was brought here in the first place. He felt like a back-stabber, standing in the busy dining hall, scrubbing floors for these people. But on the other hand, he saw the worried faces of the two girls who worked in the kitchen, knowing their men would be directly under Simon's command. He also knew that all the insulin was gone from the storage and seven of the people here needed it to survive. He knew they were short of baby food as well, but had three pregnant women in building C. And a part of him hoped that the convoy would come back with new medicine and other things the people here needed. It wasn't all black and white anymore. Especially not when it came to the leader. The tall man who was worshiped and feared at the same time inside the many buildings of the Sanctuary. The man who bashed heads in with a baseball bat, but in the next minute rescued nice old ladies. One who had lost his wife and presumably everyone else around him, but tried to build something new, in his own way. Same as every other leader did in this new world. Eat or be eaten. You're either at the table or on the menu.

It definitely wasn't black and white anymore. It was a grey zone, just like the carpet in some of the rooms here. 

Daryl went outside when he heard the first trucks starting. He looked around for a black leather jacket, a red scarf, a cheerful grin. The only thing he saw, was Negan's arm leaning out of an open car window, the car almost out of the gates already. He felt his stomach clench and burn as he watched the convoy leave and eventually disappear.

He punched the wall and didn't work for the rest of the day. Refusing to do anything for these people. Not accepting the fear he felt, with the possibility that Negan might not come back.

He went to his room, kicking the door, throwing his book on the floor, hating himself for being in the grey zone.

\---- 

On day 236, the convoy wasn't back, Daryl didn't shower, didn't read and didn't even look on the work schedule for his name.

On day 237, the convoy was still not back, Daryl had still not showered, but had stolen cigarettes from the storage. He had put himself on fence duty, but in the end did nothing more than to stand at the gates, looking for trucks.

On day 238, there was still no sign of the convoy, but rumors started to spread like a wildfire. Rumors about big fights, rumors about several deaths, rumors that made Daryl's inside boil with rage and fear. He was sneaking into building A at night, no boots on his feet, filthy hair, dirty clothes. He waited in silence in front of Negan's closed door. Then knocked down one of the ugly framed paintings decorating the hallway. Two nameless men dragged him back to his room.

On day 239, the gates opened in the late afternoon. A convoy of trucks and cars entered the outside area of the Sanctuary. It was an almost quiet process. Simon jumped out of one of the trucks, barking some tersely orders to other men. Boxes and weapons were unloaded. Dr. Carson climbed tiredly out of one of the cars, immediately approached by a man who's wife had gotten sick in the past days.

Negan wasn't seen at the arrival, but the people were updated that everything had went as planned and the man himself was busy but fine.

His absence led people to malicious gossip , from Negan having lost an ear, over Negan having a major flesh wound, to Negan being dead and eaten by walkers.

Daryl didn't listen and didn't care. He was too busy planning his big escape day. Maybe he would take Rosemary with him and a shit load of red apples, enough for the next couple of weeks.

\----

"Hey, mop guy!" A nameless man opened Daryl's room door on day 240. "Move your ass. Boss wants to see you." 

Daryl looked up, relief washing over his face for a moment.

"Don't just sit there. Move, asshole." The man walked off, not bothering to close the door.

Throat tightening with the uncomfortable feeling back down that foreshadowed tears, Daryl stayed in his corner on the floor. Not wanting to go anywhere, not wanting to do silly chores, not wanting to see anyone, least of all that man in the grey zone. He wouldn't go.

\----

Thirty minutes later, a fighting, struggling man was dragged forcefully through the hallways of the Sanctuary. Up the stairs, over the gallery, through heavy doors, an empty staircase and finally along a carpeted hallway, in front of a dark wooden door.

"Sir," a nameless guy knocked and opened, addressing the man on the bed with outmost respect. "He wouldn't come on his own."

Daryl fought in the tight grip of the two men holding him in place, eventually breaking free with a punch of his elbow and kick of his shin.

"You prick!" One of the men instantly lunged out to punch back.

"HEY!" A deep voice resounding through the room stopped his movement mid air. "You don't do that!"

Daryl stood on the thick grey carpet, bare feet, dirty clothes, breathing heavily. He clenched his fists, eyeing the two men in the door frame dangerously.

"Daryl! Come the fuck here right now!"Negan said sternly and waved his other men off. "You two report back to me later about this!"

They left, closing the door. Leaving Daryl alone in the room with a tall man on the bed. No leather jacket, no baseball bat, no cheerful grin. Instead a white bandage on the side of his head, right above his bruised left temple.

"Just a graze wound." He told the younger man, standing in front of the bed, trembling with rage and discomfiture. "Some bitch tried to shoot me."

"Serves you right." Daryl spat, voice rough with emotions. "Y' should be dead."

Negan chuckled, "Probably."

Daryl's nostrils flared when he made a step back, fuming.

Negan watched him, sucking air through his teeth, creating a sizzling sound. After a while he patted the mattress with his hand. "Here."

Daryl backed away a further step, shaking his head, a look of hurt in his eyes. 

"Here." The injured man repeated, his tone more serious.

"You killed my friends." 

Negan cocked an eyebrow, surprised by the comment. "You killed mine." He patted the mattress again. "Come. Here."

"Di'n't kill yours?" Daryl seemed bewildered with the allegation.

The other man took a deep breath, loosing his patience. A dangerous, piercing stare in his eyes. He pointed with a single finger on a specific spot on his mattress. "Do NOT. make me ask again." 

Daryl gritted his teeth. He walked to the bed slowly, but stopped in front of it, not daring to sit down. He looked at his feet, hands still clenched to fists.

"Greg." Negan said in an icy voice. "I knew him since my second year of College. He was my best man at the wedding." He paused a moment. "He was one of the 32 man you killed at my outpost."

Daryl found it hard to breathe. He remembered that night. They had no other choice, they had to eliminate that group.

"Steven. Greg's 19 year old son. And Ronan, Simon's closest friend." Negan continued, sounding almost bitter now. "Danny was 22, he was one of the group you've blown up on the street. Just like Kurt, who was our best scout."

Daryl looked up and took a step back, voice cracking. "Tried to kill us, your group!" He gestured with his hand defensively. "'s not my fault!"

Negan eyed the other man carefully. "Of course not. It is just what happens on the streets these days." He tried to sit up, wincing a little when his head protested in pain. "We do what's necessary." He closed his eyes a moment, stopping at the edge of the bed, too dizzy to get up. "Now bring me some water, boy. You're not here for decoration."

Daryl stood there on the thick grey carpet, staring at the other man, fighting with himself. He was angry, he was confused, he was ashamed. He was very sorry. But most of all he was desperate because he didn't know what to do now and all he really longed for was the quiet peace of the dark cell. 

When he finally broke eye contact with Negan, and lowered his head, he could feel relief crawling through his entire body. He turned around, walked quietly to the side table, filled a glass of water and brought i back, holding it out to the waiting man on the bed.

But Negan didn't look pleased. He glared up with his dark eyes, tense lips not saying a word. He did not take the glass, just waited silently.

Daryl let out a small huff of desperation, holding the glass out in a second attempt. When he still was denied, his fingers started to shake slightly and with them the glass of water. He wanted to run out. He wanted to hide. But in the end he sank down to his knees, spilling a bit of water in the process.

"That's exactly right, boy." Negan approved, in a dangerous tone, finally accepting the glass out of Daryl's hand. He took a sip, all the time staring at the kneeling person in front of him. "Since I'm badly injured and practically on my death bed here, I will take a much needed nap now. In the meantime you can think about your fucking disrespectful behavior. " He put the glass on his nightstand, lying back down. "And don't move. It makes Lucille sad."

For 42 minutes Daryl crouched on the floor perfectly still, with a hot, heavy stone inside his stomach. In minute 43 he dared to raise his head a little, seeing the tall, sleeping man on the bed. Baseball bat not even close. For a split second the possibility of a quick, easy kill shot through Daryl's mind, followed by the horrific image of a lifeless Negan.

Daryl lowered his head again, resting his chin on one knee, toying with the carpet underneath his fingers. He hoped the nap would be very long. Three days would be good.

\----

When Negan got up after two hours and fourteen minutes, he didn't pay any attention to Daryl. He emptied the water glass from the nightstand, he went to his desk, he walked out of the room and came back after a while just to refill his glass with fresh water. He drank it near the windows. And when he finally walked back to sit on the edge of the bed, Daryl was short from crying, the tension in his body from being ignored so long, almost too much to bear.

Negan rubbed his beard with a sigh. "Are you done thinking? Anything you want to tell me?"

'Sorry.' Was the first and only word on Daryl's mind, but it just wouldn't come out of his mouth. Instead he looked up hesitantly, needing to see the other man's face, hoping to find a sign of affection.

Negan looked down at the kneeling man to his feet, raising an eyebrow, waiting. "Nothing?"

Daryl's eyes dropped again, heat crawling up through his tight throat. And when a cool, leather clad hand finally reached out and cupped the side of his face, he leaned into it as if it was the emergency exit out of this miserable situation.

"Good boy." Negan growled, praising Daryl's natural response. "You need punishment, isn't that right?"

Daryl didn't answer but turned his head in an attempt to hide his face in the strong hand, his mouth touching a smooth leather glove.

Negan took a moment to enjoy the sight before he stopped the contact, got up from the bed and let his voice drop in a dead serious tone. "Go, stand in the corner over there, face to the wall."

The man on the ground seemed to shrink completely into the carpet, fighting with the loss of the comforting hand, and the sudden rough order.

"Daryl!" The taller man said louder, no sign of patience in his voice.

Daryl got up, his legs hurting from the long time crouching on the floor. In the first moment he looked around helpless, not sure where to go, until Negan shoved him with force into a corner of the room, face an inch from the wall.

"Since you obviously can't think of anything you might have fucked up," Negan barked right behind the smaller man, "Allow me to remind you." He walked over to his black leather sofa, where his baseball bat was resting against the cushions. "As I was informed, you did not do any of your chores while I was out." He picked her up, caressing the wooden handle in his bare hand. "But oddly enough, you have found the time to sneak into the storage to steal my cigarettes." He went back to Daryl, stopping right behind him. "Is that true?" 

Daryl didn't say anything, staring a hole into the dark wall in front of his face.

"ANSWER WHEN YOU'RE SPOKEN TO!" Negan yelled, the impact of his pervasive voice making the other man flinch. "Is it true or not!"

"Yeah." Daryl said in a low tone, moving closer to the wall, his rapid heartbeat making him dizzy.

"Damn right it's true!" The dark voice shouted behind his back, his shoulders tensing up when he felt Negan's face very close to his head. 

"And correct me if I'm wrong," Negan breathed in deeply the other man's scent, touching a strand of hair. "But it doesn't seem as if you did take very good care of my property, right?" 

Daryl squeezed his eyes shut, clenching his fists.

"Even though you promised you would do so."

A dark voice along with hot breath against the back of his neck sent nervous tingles down his spine. 

"And I really hate when I'm being lied to, boy."

Daryl felt uncomfortable pressure building up in his head. 

"Did you lie to me on purpose, boy?"

Daryl shook his head no. Convinced it was the truth.

"ANSWER!"

The loud command made his ears hurt and his knees buckle. "No."

"NO WHAT!"

"I di'n't lie to you." Daryl whispered with broken voice, touching the wall with one hand, for support.

Negan tipped Lucille against the smaller man's leg immediately. "Hands down."

Daryl did, his lips twitching uncontrollably.

"You know," Negan said, starting to pace slowly behind him, holding the bat with both hands. "That's really hard to believe. I thought you want to be good for me. BUT," he changed directions, shaking his head, "Here we are! I have to worry my majorly wounded head off about your misbehavior," he turned around walking back again, "And YOU. still refuse to wear my fucking awesome boots, and instead," He came to a stop right behind Daryl, tipping Lucille not too gently against a naked foot, "You fucking walk around bare footed like a Tarzan stunt double!" 

Daryl pulled his foot away, heavily breathing with his head down.

"TWO of my men had to drag you here like a stubborn school girl, when I obviously need your fucking service after some hard days on the battlefield!" Negan exclaimed loudly, striding back and forth again, bat over his shoulder. "You behave towards me in a VERY disrespectful manner. And when I ask you a question? You still do not FUCKING BOTHER to answer, which is by all means. not. fucking. acceptable." He stopped, speaking an inch from Daryl's head. "RIGHT?"

Daryl sniffed his nose when he felt his eyes well up, but he didn't answer.

Negan shook his head with a tired sigh and went to the bed to sit on the edge of the mattress, his temple hammering in pain. "You have one simple rule to follow, boy." He put Lucille behind him on the bed. "Please me. Please. Me. And I am happy." He looked at the shaken man in the corner with a slight smile. "When I am happy, you will be as well. It is really that simple." 

Daryl wanted to vanish completely into the dark corner, curl up in a ball of nothing, somewhere on the floor.

"Daryl." Negan said, holding out a hand. "Come here."

It took almost two minutes until Daryl found the courage to turn around and make his way to the bed. 

Negan waited patiently in silence, slowly spreading his legs when the other man came closer. "Here." he growled, making his intentions clear.

Daryl looked up bewildered for a second, but dropped quickly to the floor, crouching down in the place between Negan's knees. He lowered his gaze, hands shaking slightly. 

"It is none of your concern what I do out there or how I run this place." The taller man told him from above, in the most serious tone. "You serve me. You answer to me. You please me. That's it." He grabbed Daryl's jaw, yanking it up. "Do you understand!"

Daryl did his best to nod in the vice-like grip, while trying to avoid the intense stare of dark eyes. "Yes."

Negan gave the other man's jaw another jerk, demanding eye contact. "It pleases me when you wear my shoes. It pleases me when you educate yourself. It pleases me when you do your chores. It pleases me when you let me hear your voice." He hissed the last one in icy voice. "It damn well pleases me when you take care of my fucking property."

Daryl looked through his bangs right into a strict face, his heart pounding so hard, he could feel his pulse everywhere.

"You want to please me, isn't that right boy?" Negan pulled the younger man's head closer, lowering his voice into a deep rumble. "Are you sorry for being so disrespectful?"

"'m sorry." finally the word came out, that had been on the tip of Daryl's tongue for the entire time. It wasn't spoken in a very clear voice or loud enough, but he meant it and it was followed by a huffed sob when he couldn't hold the eye contact any longer. 

"Yes you are." Negan took his hand from Daryl's jaw, watching when the other man crouched down as much as possible, forehead resting against the inner side of his thigh. "Good job." He said deeply contented, placing a rewarding hand on Daryl's head, feeling unsteady breath against his upper leg.

Instantly all the tension, fear and anger left Daryl's body, when strong fingers brushed soothingly through his hair. The rough fabric of Negan's pants and the warmth of the skin underneath making him ache for more contact, so he moved closer. He buried his face into Negan's groin, letting out a shaky sigh. He could smell a mixture of the soap they used in the laundry room and a slight iron scent and he dug his nose deeper into the intimate place.

"Look at that." Negan encouraged the movement, "What a good boy." wrapping his fingers into long strands of hair, pulling lightly. 

A knock at the door didn't motivate him to turn around. "Come in." When Daryl stirred, trying to get up, he held his head down with pressure. "No."

"Do I interrupt?" Simon entered the room, two beer in hand and a blonde woman in tow.

"Not at all." Negan said, smirking down at the kneeling man between his legs.

Simon didn't seem surprised by the whole scene and made himself comfortable on the couch. The blonde woman falling on his lap with a giggle. "Beer?" He held a bottle up, grinning.

Daryl felt trapped and on display like a circus animal. He heard the two men laughing, talking, and fought the urge to ran out, when Negan got up from the bed after a while to take a seat across from Simon, abandoning the kneeling man on the carpet without a word.

"So, when do we plan to collect the first picking?" Simon took a sip from his beer, ignoring the woman playing seductively with the collar of his shirt. "On time, or do we make it a surprise party?"

"Oh you know I love to be over-punctual." Negan smiled, licking his lips before drinking from his bottle. 

"Surprise party it is then!" Simon leaned back happily in his seat, not paying any attention to the red lips kissing the side of his neck. 

Daryl moved a bit forward, leaning his forehead against the frame of the bed, feeling cold and tired. His legs hurt, his back started to ache and he really wanted to go back to his room. But he took a deep breath and stayed in place.

Negan's eyes flicked over to him, briefly, but he continued his conversation. "How's Rob doing, recovering well?"

"Well," Simon shrugged, "He's a tough cookie, he'll be fine."

"I drink to that." Negan raised his bottle and emptied it in one go. He got up with a sigh, walking over to Daryl, reaching down to grab the kneeling man's chin, pulling it up to create eye contact. "You're awesome." He brushed his thumb over Daryl's lips, giving him a wink.

When he left the room, Simon and the nameless woman following him, sharing a silly private joke and laughing hard about it... Daryl stayed in place with a pounding heart and proud feeling spreading through his chest. His tongue darting out to lick his lower lip, where a leather clad finger had touched him a moment ago.


	10. Taken

Thirty minutes before midnight on day 240, Negan came back to his private room after an almost two hour absence. 

Daryl's tired eyes shot open, startled by the noise of the door. He was shaking slightly on his place on the floor, the muscles in his legs burning like fire, his back feeling stiff.

Negan walked through the room, putting something on the desk, drinking water, taking his shoes off. For a second his fingertips brushed over Daryl's hair, "Well done." before he vanished through another door, closing it behind him.

Daryl heard water running and the use of a tooth brush. His stomach clenched nervously, not sure if he was supposed to leave or stay.

It took almost twenty minutes until Negan came out of the bathroom, leaving the door open, wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt. "Daryl. Go take a piss and clean yourself."

Daryl looked up, heat flushing his face. "No thanks." His voice sounding rough after all the quiet time.

Negan raised his eyebrows, staring at the kneeling man in slight disbelief, pointing to the open bathroom door. "Now. Take a fucking shower."

Daryl held the eye contact a short moment before he lost the battle and got up. His knees hurt when he straightened his legs after all the time on the floor.  
He closed the door behind himself, standing in the bathroom like he had just arrived on the moon. It was warm and smelled of tooth paste and soap. The sink was wet, and grey cargo pants hung over the backrest of a simple wooden chair. A matching belt was on the floor, some drops of water around it. Daryl looked around, feeling a pang in his guts when he saw himself in the big mirror. He looked as ugly as he remembered.

"Chop Chop, boy!" Came a warning shout through the closed door, along with a loud knock. "Wash, I said!"

Daryl grumbled something inaudible and started to undress, avoiding to look in the unforgiving mirror.

\----

After almost thirty minutes, Negan looked up from his desk when the bathroom door opened and a man with dripping wet hair appeared, still wearing dirty shirt and pants.

"What's that?" he gestured, holding a pen between his fingers. "I said clean yourself."

"Did." Daryl shrugged, feeling uncomfortable.

"You still wear the same dirty stuff."

"'s all I have." Daryl made a defensive step back, not liking this situation.

Negan looked at him and put his pen down. "Did you brush your teeth?"

"No."

"Why. not."

"'ain't got no toothbrush." Daryl mumbled, wanting to go back to the woods to live there, like he did with his brother. Without soap and toothbrush.

Negan got up from his desk without a comment and left the room. He came back ten minutes later, carrying a toothbrush and a pair of pants. He handed both to Daryl. "Go change and brush your teeth. Lucille likes them mint fresh."

\----

After another 15 minutes, a heap of dusty clothes was on the bathroom floor and toothpaste was smeared all over the sink, partly covered by a dirty, damp towel. Daryl switched the light off and closed the door, wearing just a pair of beige sweat pants. He looked at the tall man still sitting at the desk, head down over some paper work . "'m goin' back to my room."

Negan didn't look up. "No, you do not. On the floor."

Daryl wanted to protest but didn't, just huffed a tired breath and sat down on the carpet, right in the middle of the room. 

Negan finished a whole page of notes and went over three sites of storage report, before he got up, rubbing the white patch over his injured temple, grimacing at the stinging pain.

He went for a glass of water, grabbed his baseball bat and walked back to Daryl. "Stand up please." He watched as the other man awkwardly got on his feet, keeping his eyes down under wet, tousled hair. "Do you know how to present?"

Daryl didn't answer, just raised one bare shoulder to rub his cheek against.

Negan didn't ask again but circled the man silently, letting his eyes roam over a naked chest and back. He tipped Lucille with soft pressure against the inside of Daryl's leg, causing him to put his feet wider apart. "Exactly." A deep, low voice praised when the position was more to his liking. He stopped behind the smaller man, inspecting the long, thick scars, marking the skin of his back. "Who did that." He touched one with his gloved hand, making Daryl flinch.

Negan didn't further comment on it, just walked off to a dark wooden dresser, opening the top drawer, and pulled out a white t-shirt. He went back, handing it to Daryl and watched patiently as he put it on in angry motions, flaring his nostrils in wrought-up breathing.

He held out Lucille. "Take her over there please."

Daryl grabbed the bat, giving Negan a restive look, but did as told. He leaned her against the wall, correcting the position when she almost fell over. 

Negan sat down on the edge of his bed, watching him tiredly. "Now come here."

Daryl turned around, Lucille landing with a soft thud on the carpet as she lost her balance.

Negan cocked an eyebrow, holding back a snarky remark. He spread his knees, pointing on the carpet. "Here."

Daryl got on the floor between the taller man's thighs, lowering his head.

"No. Look at me."

He looked back up, most of his face hidden underneath a mass of disheveled, damp hair, the corner of his mouth white from dried toothpaste.

Negan squinted an eye, scrutinizing. "Report. What did you do today to please me."

Daryl gave him a blank stare through his long bangs, shrugging his shoulders once.

Negan waited, staring back, a slight smile on his lips. "Well?"

"Dunno." Daryl mumbled, breaking eye contact. "Nothin'."

Negan sighed, shaking his head. He licked over the tip of his gloved thumb and started rubbing it over the spot of tooth paste on the other man's mouth. "You followed my orders." He explained, "You stayed in your place, waiting for me like a champion." He grabbed Daryl's chin, moving it from left to right to inspect his work when all the white remains were gone. "You also showed respect..." he pulled Daryl's chin closer, grinning an inch from his face. "Well, MOST of the time." He chuckled quietly, tilting his head to sniff at Daryl's neck. "And not to forget, you cleaned yourself very. VERY. nicely." He let out a low growl. "I would say..." he spoke into the other man's ear. "You deserve a reward."

Daryl felt goosebumps running all over his skin when a warm mouth touched the side of his neck, breathing against it, the tip of a wet tongue sending electricity through his body.

"You want a reward?" Negan asked, voice a low rumble, rubbing his beard against the other man's cheek. "You want me to kiss you, boy?" He licked a shameless wet trail from Daryl's ear, down the line of his jaw, chuckling low in his throat when Daryl breathed in soundly in surprise, but mumbled a faint "No."

He grabbed him by the back of the neck, barely grazing his lips over a pale pink mouth, waiting for access, enjoying the unsteady breathing and small sounds of desire. 

Finally, when Daryl's lips parted hesitantly, Negan opened his own mouth with a low moan, slowly sliding his tongue between them, hardening his grip on Daryl's neck, pulling him closer. 

Daryl whimpered, his heart racing so bad he felt like fainting when Negan's demanding tongue rolled encouraging against his.

An appreciative, dark growl hummed from deep down the tall man's chest when Daryl finally gave in, sighing a huffed breath, moving a shy tongue with Negan's. 

Negan wrapped his fingers into longish strands of damp hair, deepening the kiss instantly, letting his appetite wantonly run free.

Daryl's body reacted naturally, tensing and arching, as Negan's tongue thrust into his mouth, demanding response. He felt leather clad fingers sliding down his arm, taking his hand, guiding it between wide open legs, placing it directly on the soft fabric of Negan's sweat pants with obvious hardness underneath. "Feel that." Negan ordered, licking obscenely over Daryl's lips, broad and wet. "Just kissing you makes me rock hard, boy."

Daryl sucked in a sharp breath, his fingers stiffened with the unexpected feel of a hard penis. He tried to pull back, but Negan tightened his hold around the other man's wrist. 

"Ssh." He shushed against Daryl's wet lips, grazing them lightly with his teeth. "You're doing so good." He stroked Daryl's hand over the clad shaft, showing him the outline. He left slightly panting lips, licking his way over the other man's chin, down his throat, then kissing up his neck, towards his ear. "Making me proud. "

Daryl felt vaguely lost and off-balance, nestling the side of his face into Negan's touch, rubbing against a rough beard, wanting more of the comforting deep voice. His hand relaxing a bit, he squeezed the hardness he could feel under the soft pants, just a little, but enough to make it twitch in response.

Negan moaned, devouring a pale earlobe. One hand circling around the back of Daryl's neck, the other leaving the man's wrist, reaching down to cup Daryl's own crotch, groaning in appreciation when he found a full erection. "Good job...being so hard for me." Without a warning he slid his hand underneath the loose waistband of Daryl's beige sweat pants, giving the bare shaft he found an experienced stroke. 

Daryl tensed up, startled by the sudden sensation, a quiet wailing sound escaping his trembling lips. 

Negan chuckled knowingly and pulled back a little, looking the kneeling man in the eyes. "You will come for me." He smiled slightly, slowly taking his hand out of Daryl's pants. "Later..." He kissed a pale pink mouth, sharing a breath with the other man. "Because I want you to." 

Daryl huffed a sob, his knees feeling weak. He had the urge to press his thighs together and curl up on the floor until he got his heartbeat under control, but he just sank forward, whimpering silently in his throat, putting his hands on the carpet for support, resting his forehead against Negan's abdomen for just a second, before he buried his face in the soft fabric of the man's crotch. 

"That's right." Negan said, looking down at the shaking figure, feeling his erection twitch against the clumsy movement. "Such a good boy." He placed his gloved hand on the back of Daryl's head, massaging with light pressure.

Daryl panted, surrounded by the smell of freshly washed pants, faint iron and warm skin. He rubbed his nose against the covered hardness, breathing hot air into the fabric when his lips parted automatically, needing to feel more but not knowing how. Tension building up in his own body, making him ache and tingle everywhere.

Negan was absolutely entranced by the innocent motions. He groaned deeply, running his fingers through Daryl's damp hair, moving his hips up slightly to rub against the man's face. "You want a taste, boy?" He moved Daryl's head to the side, making it rest on his thigh, stroking damp hair strands out of a pale face, brushing a leather clad thumb over a pink lower lip. "Want my taste on your tongue?" His fingers grabbed Daryl's jaw, his thumb pushing past the man's teeth. 

With a swift motion he slid his waistband down with his other hand, freeing his erection, starting to stroke in long, smooth movements.

Daryl whimpered, his head firmly held in place by a strong hand grabbing his jaw, a demanding thumb keeping his mouth slightly open. A musky scent invading his nose, making him even more dizzy than his rapid breathing. 

"You look fucking pretty." Negan said in husky voice, stroking faster. "...with that goddamn flushed face of yours." It took just two more hard strokes for Negan to come over his own hand, chuckling low in his throat, smearing the salty liquid over the swollen head. Panting with a smile, he caressed Daryl's face, before pulling him up by his jaw, giving him a wet kiss. "So good." He praised in a low voice, granting another open mouthed kiss. "Now clean me up."

Daryl gave the other man a perplexed look through his long bangs, trying to pull back when he realized what he was supposed to do. "No."

Negan looked at him, smiling faintly, not saying a word but reaching out to place a hand on the back of Daryl's head, pulling him closer, down to his crotch.

Daryl breathed nervously, tensing an inch over the man's half hard cock.

Negan stroked the nape of Daryl's neck soothingly, taking all pressure out of his grip, waiting patiently until Daryl's lips finally made contact with his wet skin, having a shy taste of the intimate liquid.

"Good booy!" He emphasized in his most serious voice, taking Daryl's head in both hands, offering a secure hold.

Daryl closed his eyes, feeling tingling heat running all over his skin while licking Negan's most private places carefully, sighing shakily, surrounded by Negan's scent. A nervous hand left the carpet, grabbing between his legs when his own cock hardened more, twitching inside his pants.

"No." A scolding voice said, along with Negan's left foot kicking lightly against Daryl's thigh. "Hands off."

Daryl huffed a desperate breath against Negan's groin, sucking a drop of semen off his warm skin, followed by a lick of his tongue.

Negan grabbed Daryl's jaw again, pushing his head up a little, meeting a dazed gaze. "Kneel up. Straight back." He raised his brows when Daryl didn't respond immediately, yanking his jaw a little for full attention, until Daryl positioned himself as told. "Do. not. close your eyes." Negan ordered, holding Daryl's jaw in a firm grip, while blindly pushing the man's loose sweat pants down.

A look of shock shot through Daryl's eyes. He froze, holding his breath, when a confident hand touched his erection, encircling it tightly.

"You know you are mine." Negan said, starting to stroke, enjoying when the look in Daryl's eyes changed from nervously anxious to pure need. "Right?" His voice was clear and stern and made Daryl whimper desperately. The muscles in his thighs started to twitch, his guts clenched in hot tension, the need to curl up on the floor, with all the unfamiliar sensations, becoming unbearable.

"RIGHT?" Negan asked again, squeezing Daryl's jaw as well as his cock, waiting for Daryl to do something similar to a nod, while the man tried to somehow bend down, his brain overwhelmed with the situation.

"Right." Negan confirmed satisfied, jerking the hard shaft in his hand once more with just the right pressure, yanking Daryl's jaw again when his eyes fell shut. "Eyes on me!" 

Daryl's eyes shot open, looking helplessly into Negan's serious stare, silently choking out the cried sob his body intended to make, when he bucked into Negan's hand, releasing spurts of thick wetness. His body fighting hard to stay upright.

"Good job." Negan praised still insisting on eye contact, stroking Daryl's cock softly, revelling on the trembling man's uncontrollable breathing. "Coming just for me."

Daryl panted in Negan's close face, and when a strong, leather clad hand released his jaw to cup the side of his face, he thankfully sank into it, turning his head in an attempt to hide.

"Knew it." Negan said after a moment's reflection, blindly pulling the loose, beige sweat pants back up. "Made a damn great choice with you." 

\----

It was the very early morning of day 241, when Daryl was fast asleep, breathing evenly through a slightly open mouth, most of his face hidden under tousled, freshly washed hair.

Not in his small apartment. Not on the floor next to his bed. But on the lower end of Negan's mattress, curled up, right next to a naked foot, the tip of his nose almost touching bare skin.


	11. Nobody

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long-ish break, 2017 started kinda crazy. 
> 
> Next chapter's out in a bit

"Oh you better be joking!"

Day 241 started very early and with a hard baseball bat in Daryl's side.

A tall man towering over the bed, growled in a deep dangerous voice. "Get your ass up and find yourself a fucking mop!"

Daryl's eyes snapped open, momentarily disoriented in the unfamiliar bed.

Negan grabbed the sleepy man by the arm, pulling him roughly out of bed and on his feet. He turned him around in the direction of an open bathroom door. "Care to explain to me why you felt the particular need to turn my spotless bathroom into a pig-sty?"

Daryl jerked his arm free, going in defense mode while his groggy brain tried to process the accusation. "Di'n't do any-"

"CLEAN YOUR SHIT UP, BOY!" A loud, harsh voice stopped any attempt of explanation, shouting right next to his ear. "And then you fucking come here and wish me a damn good morning!" Negan hissed almost nose to nose with Daryl, eyes glaring angrily. "Because right now it's more than shitty!"

Daryl returned the fierce stare for a moment, before he went into the bathroom as told. "Asshole." He mumbled it too low for the other man to hear, but he meant it with all his heart ...when he collected his dusty clothes from the floor, picked up dirty towels, and tried his best to remove all the dried toothpaste from the sink and tiles... missing Merle and the perfectly untidy woods, very much.

Twenty minutes later, Daryl left the bathroom in an acceptable clean state, carrying a heap of dirty laundry. "'m goin' back to my room."

"No." Negan sat at the desk, scribbling something in his notebook. "You take your shit to the laundry room. And then-" he raised his head, grinning. "You get me a nice, big, nutritious breakfast. I'm running a little low on protein." He pointed his pen at he other man with a wink. "Unlike you."

Daryl looked at him uncomprehendingly, slowly leaving the room. Not only was living in the woods much more uncomplicated, it was really quiet too.

He closed the door, keeping his head down, when a woman in a short skirt and high heels walked past him on the long corridor. He went through the heavy door and made his way through the staircase, ignoring the strange fact that he was walking around in Negan's t-shirt.  
When he arrived at the laundry room, the lady at the folding table shot him a suspicious look, but said nothing. He threw the dirty laundry on a pile to the other and left again, walking to the kitchen, feeling relieved when he saw that Dwight obviously wasn't on breakfast duty. 

He didn't say anything to the two nameless guys, working on a load of wheat rolls, and ignored when they looked at his naked feet. 

Next to the oven stood a huge bowl of cut fruits and another one with oat meal. He stared at both of them for a moment, not sure what contained more protein. He took a slice of apple and put it back down a second later, feeling nervous.

"What are you doing?" One of the guys asked, rubbing some flour off his hands. "You can't just walk in here and take anything without points."

"'s not for me." Daryl said quietly, "Need breakfast for your boss."

Neither of the two men commented on the new information, just nodded and started to prepare a tray of food, placing rolls, butter, cheese, fruit and eggs on it, along with a glass of milk and a cup of coffee.

Daryl took it with a halfhearted nod, staring at the items he received while leaving the kitchen, still unsure if he had something nutritious with protein.

He walked back, spilling a bit of the coffee when he pushed the heavy door open with his shoulder. Some women gathered in the hallway, talking about something with nail polish and the color purple. He tried to ignore them and the floral scent marks, they had spread all over the corridor. 

The door to Negan's private rooms was wide open and the short-skirt-high-heels- woman stood right in front of a tall, fully clothed man, wrapping her arms around his neck, batting her fake eyelashes at him. "We could have dinner together tonight?" She raised to her tip-toes, planting small kisses on her husband's face. "And maybe we have something really, really nice for dessert?"

Daryl wanted to throw one of the rolls at her stupid, painted face. But he just stopped in the door frame, holding the tray, feeling ill in his stomach.

"We shall see." Negan offered, giving her a short kiss on the lips, before he ended the intimate embrace. "Please go and speak to Diane now, she has to work at the infirmary today. Karen needs help."

Daryl fought the urge to wrestle her to the ground, when she walked past him to leave the room, briefly brushing his arm when he didn't step aside.

"Took you a while." Negan remarked, not too pleased, and moved some papers around, gesturing for Daryl to place the tray on the desk. "I hope my coffee is still hot."

Daryl didn't answer, just put the tray down harshly, making the dishes clatter and the glass of milk almost tip over. 

The taller man narrowed his eyes dangerously, slowly stepping into Daryl's private space.

Daryl automatically clenched his fists and felt his heart pound under the intimidating stare, but he didn't look away.

"Do we have to talk about respectful behavior again, boy." Negan growled coldly, moving another inch closer.

Every muscle in Daryl's body tensed in rage. "Yeah, speak to your silly chick!" He stepped back, gesturing with his arm. "'m not your slave!" His voice sounded rough and not half as confidant as he wanted it to, but he managed to keep his head up. "Send one of your bimbos to get your food."

"Hh." Negan's expression changed from cold anger to impressed appreciation. "Look at you. As fierce as a fucking tiger." 

Daryl squinted his eyes. "Go to hell." He went to the door, boiling heat crawling through his stomach.

"Already did." A low chuckle resounded from deep down Negan's throat. Then all amusement left his features when Daryl reached out for the door handle. "NO." It was a strict order with no room for discussion. "Turn around."

Daryl didn't. But he felt his heartbeat drumming in his ears while digging his naked toes in the thick grey carpet.

"Don't make me repeat myself." A dark voice demanded. 

Daryl turned around tensely, having his head down and fists clenched tightly at his sides.

"Everyone here has a place." Negan said loud and clear. "I offered you a place that I see is right for you and fits your needs." He pointed at the floor to his right side. "Here."

Daryl's eyes flicked for a moment to the spot he was shown, but he didn't move.

"As you can see," Negan raised his brows, trying to catch the other man's gaze. "No one else is here. It's an exclusive position. You can have it if you want." he shrugged, making a pause. "Up to you." 

Daryl wanted to say that he hated everything here. All the confusing rules, the toothpaste and most of all the stinking women. But the only thing coming out of his mouth was nervous breathing. 

Negan waited patiently, studying the other man. "Go, have breakfast with the others and ask Joseph how you can help today." He sat down at his desk, reaching for the cup of coffee. "Or claim your place. Wish me a good morning and have breakfast with me."

The tall man at the desk finished his whole cup of coffee and half a roll with cheese, before Daryl moved quietly and sat down on the grey carpet, his knees pulled up to his chest, next to Negan's chair. 

"Well done." A deep voice praised immediately. "You want to wish me a good morning now?"

Daryl wanted to, very badly. But he just hugged his knees and huffed a breath, digging his bare heels into the carpet.

A leather clad hand reached down to cup the side of his face, making his heart skip a beat and his chest tight. He nestled into the touch, closing his eyes for a moment when instant relief washed over him. He turned his head, his lips feeling the warm, smooth material of the leather glove. He breathed in the scent. "'mornin." It was a barely audible, mumbled word, but enough for Negan to hum in satisfaction.

"Good boy, Daryl." A strong thumb rubbed rewardingly over Daryl's chin and jaw. "Thank you for the breakfast. It's good."

\----

15 minutes later, Negan got up, handing the man on the floor a plate with some apple, cheese and a half eaten roll with butter. "Eat. And have the milk."

Daryl looked up, not taking the plate. "Ain't havin' no points left."

A delighted smile moved over Negan's face. "You're a good little rule follower, isn't that right." He placed the plate on the carpet next to Daryl's feet. "Eat."

Daryl hesitated for a moment, before he took the roll and stuffed it into his mouth.

Negan watched him, as he devoured the food in record speed, not bothering to chew properly. "Here." He handed him the glass of milk, not surprised when it was gulped down in three seconds. "You want more?"

Daryl looked up, wiping an arm over his milk-wet mouth, shaking his head.

Negan sighed. "Get up. Take the tray back to the kitchen, please. Then go for some lessons to Rosemary, I will be busy for a while." He went to the door, opening it. "And eat whenever you're hungry. You're out of the points system, boy."

\----

Rosemary spent four hours of day 241, to read with Daryl in a book about Ireland. It was a travel guide with a lot of pictures and background stories to all the places and people of interest, including Pubs and Leprechauns - which was one of the most difficult words Daryl had ever read successfully.

He left the old lady in the early afternoon, and went to his small apartment. First he just wanted to put on socks and shoes, but at the sight of six dark blue bottles of body wash for men, decided he could use the communal shower, while most of the other men were out working.

He couldn't help but notice, how awfully dirty the shower room was compared to Negan's bathroom, and made it a point to not make an even bigger mess. 

After a quick shower, he brushed his teeth, avoided to look in the mirror, and went back to his room to put on some clothes. A fresh pair of pants, socks and shoes. He thought about putting Negan's shirt back on, but in the end placed it underneath his blanket and put on a sweater.

He wiped some stubborn strands of wet hair out of his face and went through the endless corridors of the Sanctuary to find something to eat. The kitchen-duty workers were busy and not willing to give out food for free, to people who claimed to be off the point system. The trading hall staff wasn't any more cooperative. So Daryl tried the outside area, to steal a couple of tomatoes, a small cucumber and three strawberries. He sat down on one of the metal stairs to eat his plunderage, when a big man in jeans and red jumper blocked his view.

"Aren't you the mop guy?" He asked, fondling an iron pipe in his hands. "Taking vegetables is expensive and you didn't pay."

Daryl stopped chewing and put the rest of his pickings down. "Not your problem."

"Maybe." The man with the pipe grinned smugly. "But it will be yours if you don't pay immediately."

"Yeah, fuck off." Daryl mumbled and got up, gathering his food to eat someplace else.

"DEREK! OSCAR!" The big man yelled over his shoulder. "I guess we have a problem here!"

\----

Daryl could fight the three men off for a while, but when two more came running, he was clearly outnumbered. 

He felt his eye swelling up and wiped blood from his nose, on the way back to his small apartment. Angry at this stupid place, with silly people and idiotic rules. He was hungry, in fucking pain and really wanted his damn crossbow back. Or at least a gun, or knife.

He slammed his door shut and kicked the only chair in the room against the wall. Images of him, killing the red-sweater guy brutally, popped up in his head. Bolting an arrow straight through his eye sounded not painful enough. He would gut him. And cut the throats of the other four.

He punched the wall, making his knuckles bleed. Then sank down on the floor to sit next to the bed, leaning his hurting head against the mattress.

\----

"Get your ass up!" In the early evening a nameless man opened the door to Daryl's room, shouting like a drill sergeant. "The boss wants you to serve him dinner. For two. Now!" He left, not bothering to close the door.

Daryl didn't look up, didn't move, didn't plan to serve anything to anyone. He was done with this place.

\----

Twenty minutes later, three nameless men made their way through the staircase leading to building A. One carrying a big tray of hot, steaming food. Two others brutally dragging a kicking, struggling Daryl up the stairs, through a heavy door and along an empty corridor with grey carpet.

A dark wooden door opened before one of them had the chance to knock.

"What the FUCK is going on here!" A tall man in leather jacket, red scarf and heavy boots barked, totally annoyed by all the fuss in his private area.

"That asshole refused to come on his own!" One of the men spat, giving Daryl a hard push, making him stumble. 

Negan's face scrunched up in cold anger, dark eyes flashing dangerously at the sight of Daryl's bruised face and bloody nose. "Daryl." he said in a low voice, "Take the tray. Wait in my room."

Daryl's nostrils flared under heavy breathing, eyeing the nameless minions with pure hate.

"DARYL!" Negan yelled. "NOW!"

Daryl waited another moment, then grabbed the tray and went into the room. The door slamming shut behind him as soon as he had entered. He heard Negan shout and curse, heard the other men accusing him of theft and noncompliance, heard Negan repeat some of his rules in a low, icy growl, before all the noises started to blur. 

He looked up and saw a blonde woman sitting on the black leather sofa, dressed in an expensive looking outfit, wearing a full face of make up and one of Doyle´s fancy hairstyles. The stench of her perfume filled up the whole room. 

"You can serve dinner here." She said, pointing one of her long fingers at the coffee table. 

Daryl didn't leave his spot right next to the door, staring blankly at her judging face, hating everything he saw.

"Hello?" the woman said disdainfully, "I just told you something?"

Daryl walked to the desk, letting the tray drop two inches over the top, making the dishes clatter and a glass of wine fall over, spilling the red fluid over a pile of paper. He shot the couch-woman a cold look and walked back to the door to wait.

"I can't believe you did that!" She screeched in slight shock. "How dare you! My husband will-"

"Will what!" The tall man entering the room wanted to know, leaning Lucille next to the door frame. "Pipe the fuck down, wife. I speak for myself."

He grasped Daryl's chin roughly, giving his bruised face a close look. "They said you were caught stealing today. Explain."

Daryl shoved Negan's hand off. "Fuck off." His coarse voice sounding hurt. "You said I can eat."

Negan pulled his lips in, rolling his tongue behind his teeth, watching in silence for a moment. "You just took food?"

Daryl didn't answer, staring back at the taller man through long bangs.

Negan gave him a nod. "Go, clean your face." He gestured towards his bathroom and when Daryl didn't move, gave him a little push in the side, insisting on his request. "Be good."

\----

It was warm in the bathroom and it smelled good, not like disgusting women's perfume. Negan's sweat pants were on a chair and his tooth brush stood in a cup, next to a spare one, that Daryl had used. 

He looked at it and then up at his reflection in the big mirror. It made him feel embarrassed immediately. He hated his looks on normal days, but on days when he looked like this, he felt like pure dirt. It made him hear the emotionless voice of his father and the mocking voices of the children at school. It reminded him why he never had a birthday party and why no one had ever invited him to one. It reminded him of standing on the schoolyard, pretending the other kids would not make fun of his cheap, dirty clothes and self-cut hair. It reminded him that he was a nobody and even worse. He was scum to the rest of the world. Always was. 

As much as he tried to fit in, be good, follow the rules, work for others. It was never enough to be a real someone. And looking in the mirror at his ugly, swollen face, dried blood smeared all over, tousled hair, dirty shirt... he could totally understand. And it made him miss the woods, where he just blended in, like being invisible. With Merle, who sometimes saw him anyway. 

He turned on the tap, holding his hand underneath, watching the clear water running over his dirty fingers. He felt a lump forming in his throat and took a long, shuddering breath, blinking rapidly to stop the tears from welling up his eyes. He quickly wiped his sleeve over his face, sniffed his nose and put both hands under the running water to wet them. He rubbed them over his cheeks and mouth, then wetting them again, repeating the process until most of the dried blood and dirt was gone. 

He splashed some fresh water around the white sink, to clean it from any dirt he might have left.

When he switched the light off and opened the door, a tall man and his wife shared dinner, sitting opposite each other, on couch and chair, speaking quietly.

Negan turned his head, giving Daryl an almost friendly look, with just a hint of a smile, patting the side of his thigh. 

Daryl saw it and knew what it meant. For a split second he thought about ignoring the silent order and to just walk out, back to his room, far away from any women, silly rules or tall men in leather jackets. But the ache in his stomach wouldn't let him leave the room. It even made him walk surprisingly fast to the black leather sofa. 

He dropped to his knees, with his back to the blonde woman, but very close to Negan's leg. No one called him a good boy or told him he had well done, but a gentle, leather clad hand made him rest his head against a strong thigh, it stroked the side of his face and brushed some strands of hair behind his ear. It made everything quiet and ok.

Negan talked about two of his other wives and how they were constantly fighting with each other. The blonde woman told her version of the story and offered advice on how to handle the situation. In between they ate some meat and potatoes, drank wine and laughed. 

Daryl didn't care, because a teasing finger played with his ear and a firm hand held his head in place whenever he tried to move just a tiny bit. 

"If you think I reward this kind of behavior," Negan said, giving Daryl's face a final stroke, before taking his hand away. "By giving them separate rooms, you are as crazy as them." He grinned at his wife and pulled his glove off, finger by finger. He put it on the arm rest and grabbed a piece of meat, biting a chunk off, and holding the rest in front of Daryl's mouth. "Maybe I should make them sleep together in one bed instead." He chuckled, rubbing the small piece of meat against Daryl's lips when it wasn't taken. "That could do the trick, don't you think?" 

Daryl tensed, feeling embarrassed, but opened his mouth after a moment. The meat was pushed between his lips instantly.

"In fact," Negan cogitated, amused by his own idea, "We should create such a sleeping arrangement for ALL of you." He caressed Daryl's cheek for a while with the tips of his fingers before he reached for another piece of meat to hold it in front of the man's mouth. "You know, for a hot bonding experience." Daryl ate it without hesitation and Negan fed him a third one, this time rubbing his finger over pale pink lips while Daryl chewed.

"You are a pig." The blonde woman said, emptying her glass of wine.

Negan grinned, "Well that's what you like about-" and then momentarily forgot what he wanted to say, when the tip of a warm tongue touched his finger. His eyes darted to the other man's face and a low groan rumbled from deep in his throat, when he saw how Daryl tried cautiously to gather the remains of meat taste off his skin. 

He pushed through slightly parted lips, enjoying how Daryl huffed a breath around his finger and started sucking softly. It made Negan's flaccid cock spring to life instantly.

Daryl closed his eyes. The salty taste of Negan's finger and slight movement inside his mouth made the ache in his stomach start again. 

Negan's other hand reached over to brush rewardingly through Daryl's hair, stroking it out of his forehead, pulling it lightly.

Daryl's eyes fluttered open again, looking up at the man who was watching him with a mixture of irritation and desire. He released the finger, circling it with his tongue, feeling his heart pound in his chest and his guts tingle strangely.

"Well, I don't know about you, dear wife," Negan growled with dark lust in his deep voice, not taking his eyes off Daryl's face. "But I'm more than ready for dessert now." He retracted his wet finger, rubbing a glistening coat of saliva on pale pink lips. "Wait in your bedroom for me. Will be there in a minute." 

The blonde girl got up, obeying happily.

Negan watched the door fall shut and adjusted his pants with a sigh. He grabbed Daryl's chin, pulling his head up to create eye contact. "YOU. stay here." He ordered in the most serious voice, making the importance clear. "You eat what's left, you take a piss, you go to bed. You fucking wait for me like a good boy." He seemed almost angry when he looked in Daryl's flushed face and slightly dazed eyes, then pulled him in, roughly, for a hard kiss. His forceful tongue demanding instant access, thrusting into the warmth of Daryl's mouth with a deep groan. 

After five seconds, he tore his mouth away, ending the kiss abruptly, hissing a harsh, "Right?" and got up, leaving the room in frustration. "And don't forget to clean my fucking desk."


	12. Daryl

At 1 AM on day 242, Daryl sat on the floor in front of Negan's bed, leaning his head against the mattress. 

He had cleaned the desk, had put an abandoned leather glove on the dresser, had eaten everything that was left on the tray from dinner, and had brushed his teeth. 

He had even cleaned the toothpaste from the sink, tiles and floor afterwards. 

Now he just waited, kneeling, for a man who had left the room to be with a woman. It made him angry, it embarrassed him, it made him want to destroy this place and run off into the night. 

... and it made his heart speed up, every time he heard a noise from the corridor, because it could be Negan, coming back for him.

\----

50 minutes later, his eyes snapped open when a tall man entered the room, blood stains on his jacket and cargo pants. 

Negan put his boots off and vanished into the bath room.

When he came back out, he was freshly showered, wearing nothing but sweat pants. He got himself a glass of water and inspected the empty tray on the coffee table. "Well done." He praised, walking over to the bed, sitting down on the edge of the mattress, next to where Daryl was kneeling on the floor. He combed his fingers through long strands of hair. "Sorry it took longer. Had to take care of a little problem."

Daryl wanted to ask what he meant, but didn't, just gave a small nod in response.

"Report now." Negan decided, spreading his legs. "What did you do today to please me." 

The other man shrugged after half a minute, keeping his head down.

"No." a stern voice emphasized. "Here."

Daryl felt heat floating through his chest. He moved between Negan's thighs, mumbling a quiet, "Dunno." to the carpet.

"Daryl." Negan said patiently. "Sit on your heels. Straight back." He waited until, after a minute of resistance, the other man had moved awkwardly into the required position. "Look at me."

Daryl's head felt heavy, like it was filled with cement, when he raised it to look at Negan through his long bangs. Shame making his stomach feel sick.

"That's more like it." Negan approved, no sign of mockery in his voice. "Now report, what have you done today to please me."

It was like being watched by a thousand people. Daryl cast his eyes down, his fingers nervously fumbling with the thick carpet. "The toothpaste." Was finally the only thing he could think of, instantly regretting when he heard the words coming out of his mouth. He felt like standing in front of the class, misspelling the word 'cat'.

But no one laughed this time, or flicked spit balls at his face. 

"Very good. You cleaned it up." There was not even a hint of amusement in Negan's expression. "What else?"

Daryl didn't know and wanted to go back to his room. It was late, he was tired and he hated questions. He shrugged with a sigh, slouching down. "Nothin'."

"No, sit straight." Negan nudged the other man with the side of his foot. "You cleaned, you served, you followed orders." He said, reaching for Daryl's jaw, forcing eye contact. "You waited for me without a question, you didn't comment on my decisions, you washed yourself and wear my shoes." He grinned, clearly delighted. "And my fucking favorite of the day... you showed affection in SUCH a nice way." He leaned in close, guiding Daryl's head in the perfect position for a kiss. "You made me so fucking horny. Poor Michelle never knew what hit her."

Daryl tensed, hurt flashing through his eyes. He tried to push the taller man off, touching his bare chest.

"Ss-t-t!" Negan narrowed his eyes, scolding. "Hands down, boy." His voice low and dark. "What did I tell you this morning. I said your place is exclusive." He moved his spread legs for a second, making a point. "This spot right here... is just for you. None of my wives has what it takes to earn this position." He leaned in again, holding Daryl's chin between thumb and forefinger. "You, on the other hand," strong lips and a rough beard grazed Daryl's mouth, warm breath hitting his skin. "You are fucking special." He kissed Daryl, wet and slow, relishing in the feeling of a shy tongue warming up to his own. He rewarded it with a deep moan and a secure hand at the back of Daryl's head, pulling him in closer, deepening the kiss. And when he stopped all his actions, just holding still, resting his mouth on pale pink lips a moment before pulling back, the desperate shaky little breath that escaped Daryl's throat made him chuckle softly. 

He took Daryl's head in both hands, looking at the bruised face. "You really pleased me today, boy." He smiled when Daryl just blinked through long bangs. "Get up now. Undress. Time for bed."

Daryl stared a moment at the other man, then nodded and moved to his feet. He tried to ignore the ache in his stomach and the stiffness of his legs, when he walked to the door.

"Boy." Negan sighed. "Wrong direction. I meant my bed."

Daryl froze in the middle of the room, heat crawling up through his body. He rubbed his fingers together nervously, not sure what to do.

"Is there a problem?" Negan got up and lifted the blanket. "I mean, you snoozed like a fucking puppy by my feet last night." he moved into bed, making himself comfortable. "Chop chop."

Daryl kept his eyes down, walking to the other side of the bed, cautiously reaching for the blanket.

"No." Negan objected. "Undress I said."

Daryl stared at the man in bed, "'m not undressin'."

Negan raised his brows. "So you always sleep in fucking full attire like a vagrant?"

Daryl didn't answer, shame and rage flooding his chest. Merle had never asked such stupid questions.

"Do I really have to get the fuck up to take your fucking shoes off, boy? Or do you think you can manage it alone!" 

"Ain't sleepin' naked anywhere!" Daryl spat, gesturing with his arm in the air, his voice sounding far more emotional than he wanted it to. "Fuck you."

Negan's expression darkened. He rolled his tongue behind tightly closed lips, glaring at the other man in silence. Then he got up, walked to his dresser, pulled out a t-shirt and sweatpants and went to Daryl, holding both out for him to take. "Change in the bathroom. Come to bed. Apologize. Or-" he hissed, thrusting the clothes into Daryl's hands. "You spend the night standing in the fucking corner." When Daryl didn't react and kept staring at his feet, breathing hard, Negan yelled right into his face. "DID I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR!"

Daryl flinched and nodded a second later. He went into the bathroom to change into the night clothes he was given, without any further word. 

When he came back out, the room was dark and Negan back under the blanket, lying on his side, watching silently.

Daryl felt his heart pulse in his throat when he walked to the bed and crouched down in front of it, leaning his head against the side of the mattress. After a minute in this position, a quiet "'m sorry." left his mouth.

Negan let him wait another two minutes before a rewarding hand reached out to stroke gently through long strands of hair. "Show me how I want you to kneel for me."

Boiling heat flushed Daryl's face immediately, his guts clenching and flipping. He moved a bit back, sitting on his naked heels, straightening his back, trying his best to keep his head up.

Negan didn't smile or call him a good boy. But he lifted the blanket after a while, holding it up as an invitation. "Here."

The small word shot like a streak of lightning into the middle of Daryl's stomach, making his heart stumble for a second. His hands were shaking when he found the courage to climb on the mattress, right in front of Negan's warm body, smelling like clean skin and a faint iron scent. He held his breath, shifting around, lying with his back to Negan, as close as possible to the edge of the bed, trying to keep as much distance as he could, his whole body tense. 

Negan covered him with the blanket, "I'm in control. At all times." his voice low but serious. "But I don't hurt what's mine. I do not force you to do anything against your needs."

Daryl didn't answer, trying not to move, or breathe, or blink.

"Turn around, I am talking to you." Negan watched and waited patiently until the other man was done fighting his inner battle with resistance, until he had found a way to turn around, on the edge of the bed, finally facing him, crossed arms in front of his chest. Negan scrutinized the nervous figure in the dark. "See, right now," he said, supporting his head on a bent arm, gesturing with the other. "You are huddled up, stiff as a fucking poker, almost falling off my bed." He arched his brows. "When all you really want, is to be here." He pointed with one finger on the mattress, an inch from his bare torso. "Here." He made a pause, a faint smile on his lips. "You know that would make you feel A LOT better. But the problem is... you would never come on your own. You'd rather spend the whole fucking night fully clothed in the cozy corner over there." He cocked his head, "Lucky for you... I'm the one in control." and pointed again on a specific spot on the mattress, lowering his voice in a darker tone. "Come here."

Daryl's heart pounded in his chest. He thought about running back to his dark cell. He thought about punching Negan unconscious. He thought if he would just close his eyes right now and fall asleep quickly, he wouldn't have to do anything, and everything would be quiet and ok. 

But in the end he moved forward, not looking, not thinking anymore, but thankful for the strong hand that was suddenly on the back of his head, pulling him closer, against a bare chest. 

"See? So much better." Negan looked down, stroking Daryl's hair soothingly, smiling when he felt warm breath on his skin. "Good boy."

Daryl felt like his insides would explode, electricity flashing through his lower abdomen, as soon as his face made clumsy contact with Negan's naked chest. His hand closing startled at the feel of hairy skin. He shut his eyes and opened them again, huffing a nervous breath against the dark ink of a tattoo.

"Will you kiss me good night?"

He heard the dark rumble of Negan's voice, coming from deep inside his chest and instantly parted his lips to plant an awkward, wet kiss on warm skin and coarse hair, his tense hand opening again to feel a naked stomach.

"Thank you." Negan growled, reaching down to grasp Daryl's chin, guiding him up. "One more please." he demanded, rolling him on the back, stroking the side of his face, brushing with his thumb over pale lips and watching with satisfaction when Daryl's tongue darted out to touch the fingertip. He pushed his thumb past Daryl's teeth. "Suck." 

Daryl's chest was heaving when he looked up, the other man's face just a couple of inches over his. And when he closed his lips around the finger in his mouth and started sucking, Negan looked at him like he wasn't sure whether he should eat or kill him. 

Negan watched mesmerized as he slowly pulled his thumb back out and pushed it right back in, feeling a warm, wet tongue roll around it. "Oh boy, I will teach you to suck me off so well, with that fucking perfect virgin mouth of yours." He bent down to lick the corner of Daryl's mouth, then pulled his thumb out and instead flicked his tongue between parted lips, kissing hard and deep, making Daryl moan quietly in response. 

A firm hand slid from the side of Daryl's head, down his throat, over his shirt, to his waist and found a way under the thin fabric to caress the man's bare side. Negan breathed against wet lips, "Spread your legs for me." 

Daryl tensed immediately, trying to shake his head. 

"Yes." Negan insisted, moving on top of the other man, shoving a knee between his thighs. "Wide." He traced Daryl's lips with the tip of his tongue, grinding his hips into Daryl's crotch, causing him to open up more. "Good boy." His hand slid down, around to Daryl's ass, gripping him tight, pulling him up the same moment he pressed down, moving both of their clad erections together. 

Daryl arched and let out a shaky breath. 

Negan chuckled low in his throat, hooking Daryl's leg up, moving against him in a slow rhythm. "I love how fucking hard you are for me." He said, lowering down to lick Daryl's lips, dipping between them teasingly, then pulling back again. "I could come just from seeing you panting and writhing like this." He kissed him again, moaning into his mouth unashamedly, grinding their hips together. 

Daryl whimpered, his hands coming up on Negan's chest, first pushing against it and then digging his fingers into the warm skin when a demanding tongue thrust again deep into his mouth. His fingers curled around Negan's ribcage, panting into Negan's mouth, moving helplessly against Negan's hardness, kissing him back, desperately trying to get enough. Until his whole body tensed and then shuddered. He spread his legs wider and pressed them tight around Negan's hips a second later, sobbing into the other man's mouth. 

Negan growled when he felt Daryl come. "Yes, that's right boy." He released Daryl's leg, kissing him deep. He reached down slowly, sliding a hand into his pants to stroke himself. "Next time you'll get me off." He said, need in his voice, biting Daryl's lower lip. "You'll suck me so good." He panted over Daryl's face, jerking himself a bit faster. "I will come inside your goddamn fucking beautiful mouth." He licked wet and slow over pale lips, before diving between and groaning loudly into Daryl's mouth when he came, riding out his own orgasm.

After a while he pulled back slightly, foreheads still touching. "I really like having you in my bed, you know that?" 

Daryl looked up into the shadowy face so close to his own, feeling drunk and hazy. The heavy weight of another person, lying on the whole length of his body, making him strangely comfortable. He closed his eyes and raised his head a bit, touching a bearded chin with his lips, just barely grazing it, before lying back down, turning his head to the side.

Negan watched the side of Daryl's face with a faint smile, then leaned in, to nuzzle the man's ear. "You clean me now." He pulled his sticky hand up, holding a slick finger to Daryl's mouth. "Then you sleep in my arms." He bit a pale earlobe. "And in the morning..." he breathed in Daryl's hair. "You get up like a good boy... take a shower, get my breakfast," he touched Daryl's neck with the tip of his tongue. "And then you wake me up, wishing me a good morning."

The dark voice vibrating in his ear made Daryl's insides buzz, he didn't dare to blink, afraid the hot breath on his skin would stop.

"You want to do that for me?" Negan asked, tone low and serious, his lips brushing over Daryl's ear. "Tell me."

Daryl wanted to, badly. He huffed unsteady breath against Negan's wet fingers, squeezing his eyes shut, his tongue coming out in an attempt to reach some of the thick liquid.

"No." Negan pulled his hand away, hissing into Daryl's ear. "Tell me, I said." 

Daryl nodded his head.

Negan leaned up, watching the other man with a firm stare. "Tell me. You want to be good for me?" 

Daryl heard blood roaring in his ears when he turned his head to look up. "Yes." It was so softly-spoken that it was almost impossible to hear.

Negan looked down, face serious. "You want to speak in full sentences with me."

It was the truth, he wanted to, but getting the words out seemed impossible. Desperation invaded Daryl's head, making his throat tight. 

After almost a full minute, he mumbled a quiet, "Yes, I wan' to." his heart almost jumping out of his chest under all the pressure.

But as soon as the small words were out, a warm mouth was on his face, cooing in a dark silk voice against his skin. "Very. good. boy." And a semen-wet hand was put rewardingly in front of pale pink lips. "Now you may clean me." 

\----

In the early morning of day 242 Daryl woke up with a bare navel in front of his face, and a firm hand on the side of his head. Negan's scent surrounding him, steady breathing, warm skin with dark hair all over. The waistband of Negan's sweat pants just three inches away. A faint gurgling noise coming from Negan's abdomen.

The room was still half dark, it was maybe six in the morning. Daryl closed his eyes again, not wanting to leave this safe, quiet place. 

Pictures of last night popped up in his head, pictures of ugly women and ugly mirror images. Of a gloveless hand feeding him meat, and of him waiting for hours on the floor. Pictures of him being so close to another person, in one bed, for the first time since he was eleven years old. 

He opened his eyes, staring at the naked skin right in front of him. He wanted to touch it with his lips. But he didn't. Instead he tried to get up, not making any noise, not moving the mattress too much, sneaking out under the secure hand that covered the side of his face.

Standing in front of the bed, looking at the tall man sleeping, he felt a strange ache in his stomach. Guild and comfort at the same time.

He went into the bathroom to undress, folding his cum stained sweat pants and t-shirt, taking a shower with unfamiliar soap in a spotless shower stall, and brushing his teeth in front of a far too big mirror.

He dressed back into his own clothes, cleaning all the water and tooth paste he had spilled, with the towel he had used.

Then he went quietly out of the room, through the empty hallways of the Sanctuary and into the already busy kitchen. He approached a guy working at the oven, glad it wasn't Dwight. He told the man that he needed a breakfast for the boss. He wanted to add with protein, but didn't, just watched how some items were placed on a tray, along with a glass of milk and a cup of fresh coffee. He took it and walked back, trying not to spill anything, when he pushed the doors open with his shoulder. 

Negan was still in bed, his back to the door, when Daryl entered the room. He placed the tray on the desk, not sure what to do next. 

He looked around, seeing the leather jacket on the black sofa, and went to pick it up, putting it on the chair by the desk, together with the single leather glove. The baseball bat leaned next to the door frame, looking rather unspectacular. Daryl eyed it for a moment before he walked to the door, reaching for it.

"What the fuck are you doing."

The dark voice out of nowhere startled Daryl so much that he knocked the bat over, making it fall to the ground with a thud.

Negan rolled over in bed and got up with a tired sigh, adjusting the waistband of his sweat pants. "Lucille doesn't like being touched without permission." He said, vanishing into the bathroom.

Daryl stood next to the fallen bat, not daring to move.

When Negan came back out, he was dressed for the day, wearing a serious expression. He gestured incidentally with two fingers, on his way to the desk. "Pick her up."

Daryl did, leaning the bat next to the door frame, not liking the situation. 

Negan took the jacket and glove off his chair and sat down, taking a sip of coffee, reading in some papers, ignoring the other man completely.

"'m goin' back to my room." Daryl mumbled, reaching for the door handle.

"Daryl." Negan interrupted him. "Come here." He pointed to the ground next to his chair, waiting in silence until Daryl followed his order and crouched down on the floor. "No." He objected. "Kneel as I told you. Eyes on me."

Daryl exhaled soundless, his stomach clenching unpleasantly. But he turned in Negan's direction, moving awkwardly to sit on his heels.

"Straight back, head up, eyes on me." A firm voice corrected.

Daryl felt like his body would fight against him when he straightened his back, his head feeling heavy, eyes flickering nervously, refusing to focus on the other man's face.

Negan grasped Daryl's chin, insisting on eye contact for a moment, before he examined the bruised face. "Does it still hurt?"

Daryl mumbled a quiet "No.", eyes looking to the side, when a strong thumb rubbed the underside of his chin, twice, before releasing it.

"Why did you touch my belongings." Negan turned his attention back to his breakfast, spreading butter on a slice of bread.

Daryl looked down, finding it incredibly difficult to hold his upright position. He shrugged.

Negan sprinkled a bit of salt on the butter. "You meant to lay it all out for me?"

Daryl shrugged again, adding a murmured, little, "Yes."

Negan grinned. "Now isn't that sweet. Like puppy bringing my slippers."

Daryl's jaw tightened, feeling ashamed and angry instantly by the comment.

A firm hand grasped his chin again, guiding his head up, forcing eye contact. "I like it. You did very good, with all of your chores." Negan held out the buttered bread. "Now wish me a good morning and eat like a good boy."

Daryl exhaled quietly, his fingertips digging nervously into the carpet.

Negan raised his brows, waiting. "Well?"

"Good mornin'" The mumbled words sounded strange to Daryl's own ears, but he meant them.

"Well done!" The slice of bread was handed over rewardingly and Negan turned back to his plate. "Good manners never go out of style." He raised his cup of coffee to this wisdom. "Even when all the world goes to hell."

\----

On day 242, the work schedule on the brick wall in the dining room said, Daryl works in the kitchen, to wash the dishes.

"Can't you speed up a little?" Dwight yelled, waiting for a clean casserole dish to prepare lunch. "We are already thirty minutes behind, Asshole!"

Daryl gritted his teeth, not bothering to reply. The water was already dark brown from all the old grease and the little piece of steel wool in his hand had given up on the job 15 greasy baking sheets ago. He turned the casserole dish around in the dirty water, trying to clean the bottom, half a liter of water splashing on the floor in the process.

"Really, you are the most incompetent person I've ever seen!" Dwight spat, rolling up his sleeves, to do the job himself. "Get out of the way, dickhead!" He pushed Daryl hard, making him stumble. 

Daryl fell forward, almost slipping on the wet floor. His first impulse was to lash out and dunk that fucker's head to the dirty dishes in the sink, but he didn't. He just shot Dwight a deadly look and walked off, popping a piece of apple into his mouth while leaving the kitchen. Ignoring the hateful threads yelled after him.

\----

At lunchtime, Daryl stood in line for his share of potato casserole. Dwight and a girl with short black hair worked at the service counter. Daryl went to the girl, holding out his bowl, telling her he was off the points system. 

She had no chance to answer, before Dwight took over."It's ok Amy, I got this." He grinned smugly at Daryl. "Trying it again, idiot? Seems you are not the brightest bulb in the chandelier, right?" 

Daryl glared through his long bangs for a moment, before he flung the dented metal bowl against Dwight's chest, walking off wordlessly.

\----

In the early afternoon, Daryl was supposed to clean the solar panels in the outside area. 

It was terribly hot , the sun burning his skin through the clothes. He squinted, holding a hand to his forehead to shield his eyes, when he heard the familiar sound of a motorbike coming closer.

It was his motorbike. It was Dwight riding it, wearing only a leather vest over his bare chest. Another guy behind him, holding a black crossbow, both having the most conceited smiles on their faces. 

"Helloo, jackass!" He was braking sharply right in front of Daryl's cleaning bucket. "I took Randy here for a ride on your old girl. Hope you don't mind." 

Daryl just stared at him, images of a gutted, bled-out Dwight shooting through his head.

"I mean..." the blond man leaned closer. "You know, you just have to say the word and you could have it back. Taking a sweet ride, instead of being Mr. Mop." The guy sitting behind Dwight burst out laughing. 

"Although," Dwight reconsidered, rubbing his chin. "Mr. Mop actually suits you just right." A gleeful grin spread across his face, before an iron-like fist smashed his nose with a loud cracking sound. Another blow landing on his mouth, knocking him off the bike and two teeth out.

At the split of a second, Daryl grabbed his crossbow from the other man, hitting him with it across the face. The motorbike fell over, squishing Dwight's legs, leaving him yelling and cursing in pain. 

Daryl had his crossbow loaded, ready to fire and aimed at Randy's face before the man had a chance to get up from the ground. He heard people yelling around in the background and the clicking noises of guns being unlocked. Adrenalin pumping through his body, making him breath heavily. But he didn't blink or back down, ready to kill and be shot down in return.

"Down." A tall man stepped into Daryl's view, baseball bat in hand, his leather jacket being casually open, exposing the white shirt underneath.

Daryl was trembling with rage. He raised his weapon pointing it at Negan, his fingers starting to shake slightly.

Negan arched his eyebrows. "Down." His voice was calm and serious. He held a hand out, waiting. "Give me that damn thing, boy."

Daryl shook his head, moving a step back.

Two nameless men, immediately pointed their guns in the direction of his head.

Negan sighed, shaking his head, waving his bat in annoyance. "For god's sake, stop shitting your pants people! Back to work. I handle this myself."

The guards exchanged confused looks, but took their weapons down and walked off.

Negan nudged Randy with his boot. "You too. Report to me later."

Daryl still fought with heavy breathing, not taking his crossbow down.

"Let me kill him!" Dwight panted through swollen lips from the ground, instantly being silenced by a leather clad hand fisting his hair. 

Negan bent down over him, gritting his teeth. "Maybe I let him kill you, how about that?"

Confusion washed over Dwight's bloody face. "He was-"

"I am not dumb!" Negan wrapped his fingers painfully tight in blond hair strands. "I am not blind! He works for me. You handle what's mine with DAMN FUCKING RESPECT or you end up at the fence with a damn spike up your ugly ass!" He slammed Dwight's head once into the ground before he released him. "Take that bike back and go to the fucking infirmary before I change my mind. And you-" He looked over to Daryl, fury in his dark eyes. "Take the weapon down immediately if you fucking know what's good for you." 

Daryl felt his heart beat in his throat. He wrapped his finger tighter around the trigger for a moment, before he actually lowered the crossbow.

"Go to my room." Negan growled in a low, icy voice. "Now."


	13. Answer

Daryl was pacing back and forth in Negan's room, his dusty boots leaving traces of faint dirt on the grey carpet. 

He didn't know why he was still here. Did he miss the perfect opportunity to escape just now?

The image of Negan, dead on the ground, with an arrow in the head, appeared in front of his eyes and he closed them quickly, stopping to pace and instead leaned his forehead against the wall, breathing heavily, a big, burning lump forming in his throat.

\----

When the door opened, it was evening. Daryl squatted in the corner, his face to the wall, crossbow laying next to him on the floor.

Negan watched him a moment in silence and closed the door. He put something on the desk, poured himself a drink and looked out of one of the large windows, into the half dark.

After a while he put the empty glass on the coffee table and walked over to Daryl, stopping right behind him. "On your feet." It was a low, deep command that made the man on the ground stir, but not stand up. "ON. your feet." Negan repeated, his tone icy.

Daryl got up, his stiff legs protesting against the change of position after such a long time. His breath hitting the close wall, his body trembling with tension, when he felt the body heat radiating from the tall man behind him, almost touching his back.

"You disappointed me." Negan said right next to his ear.

Daryl closed his eyes, a pang of pain shooting through his guts by the sound of the word.

"You didn't finish both of the jobs you were trusted with." A cold voice told him. "You turned against my men." Negan made a pause brushing the outside of Daryl's leg with his baseball bat. "You turned against me."

Daryl breathed soundly, putting his hands up to the wall for support.

"Hands down." Negan said, his tone low and dead serious. "Legs apart." He brought Lucille to the inside of Daryl's knee, pushing slightly to widen the man's stance. When the position was more to his liking he stepped back. "Tell me why you did it."

Daryl's fingers were shaking, he stared at the dark wall in front of his face, feeling like forming words with his mouth was the most impossible thing to do.

"SPEAK!" Lucille made harsh contact with the wall, leaving a mark.

Daryl flinched, wanting to bring his arms up, but didn't. He wanted to tell everything about the kitchen, the food, the constant harassment and insults. About his stuff and how he didn't belong here. And that he would never say the word. But the only thing coming out, was an almost soundless mumbled, "dunno."

"COMPLETE SENTENCES!" The same spot at the wall was hit again, with even more force.

Daryl lost control of his body for a second, wanting to crouch down and cover his ears. A desperate sob leaving his throat.

"No." Negan shook his head, stepping closer, his front flush with Daryl's backside. "Stand up. Tell me why you did it."

It took almost a full minute until faint words were spoken, voice sounding coarse and stressed and broken. "Ain't one of them. 'm not listenin' to them."

Negan rubbed his nose rewardingly into long, sweaty strands of hair. "And that's why you point a weapon in my face?"

Daryl shook his head, shutting his eyes quickly.

"Was this yours?" Negan asked , nudging the crossbow on the floor with his foot.

Daryl nodded slightly.

Negan smiled, nuzzling the side of his face. "Are you good with it?"

Daryl wanted to say yes but decided against it, having second thoughts immediately.

"I bet you are." Negan said in his ear. "Looked pretty bad ass to me." 

He stepped back, putting his bat over his shoulder. "Turn around. Kneel over there." He pointed Lucille to a specific spot in the middle of the room, between his desk and the bathroom door.

Daryl took his crossbow and sowly moved to kneel on the floor where he was supposed to, sitting on the heels of his dusty boots. He placed the weapon to his left side.

Negan didn't comment on it, just pushed Lucille lightly in Daryl's back, reminding him to sit straight. "Eyes on me."

He looked down, meeting Daryl's gaze, speaking loud and serious. "I know D is a dick. I know it's hard for you here. I see it and appreciate your effort. However-" He put the tip of his bat under Daryl's chin when he tried to lower his head. "I am in charge. My word is final. Even if you are not one of them... you are mine." He raised his brows, making sure he had the other man's full attention. "For everything you might need or want, there are two rules. ONE: I offer it to you because I know you need it. TWO-" He bent down a little, "You want something - you fucking ASK me for it!" 

Daryl looked up through sweat-damp bangs, his fingers fumbling with the fabric of his pants.

"You don't run around shooting my goddamn men, you don't just leave your work unfinished, you don't take whatever you think belongs to you!" Negan said, not leaving room for discussion. "You come to me and tell me what you want or what the fucking problem is. And I take care of it. I decide." He pulled Daryl's chin up with two leather clad fingers. "RIGHT?"

Daryl nodded. "Yeah."

"Good boy." Negan released him, putting Lucille back over his shoulder. "Now go, take a shower and change your clothes. In the meantime, I think about your punishment for almost fucking killing me with your pretty pet-weapon."

Daryl cast his eyes down, feeling gross and filthy instantly. He got up, walking with his crossbow towards the bathroom door.

Negan sat down at his desk. "And don't forget to clean up after yourself." 

\----

When Daryl came back out after almost fifty minutes, he had showered, washed his hair, brushed his teeth, changed clothes, cleaned the sink - and his crossbow, with one of Negan's white towels. Then he had tried to wash the dirty towel. Unsuccessfully.

He held it up, dripping wet, for Negan to see, who was sitting at his desk, working concentrated. "'takin' it to the laundry." He murmured, creating a wet spot on the grey carpet.

"Later." Negan said, not looking up. "Leave it in the bathroom."

Daryl did as told, switching the light off and closing the bathroom door.

"Give me the weapon. Kneel back down."

Daryl froze in the middle of the room, grasping the crossbow with both hands. "No."

Negan looked up from his papers, arching an eyebrow. He watched the other man a moment silently and then pointed a leather clad finger on the free desk space in front of him. "Do not make me fucking count, boy." 

Daryl didn't move, pondering his options.

"One." Negan said, not happy at all.

Daryl huffed a silent breath, putting the crossbow in front of Negan on the desk, and crouched down on the floor.

"Thank you. On your heels, straight back." Negan waited until the position was correct and got up, walking over to the cabinet by the window. He took a bottle of water out, went back and gave it to Daryl. "You drink this whole bottle, and let me know when it's empty."

Daryl didn't reply, holding the bottle on his knees.

"Now where were we." Negan said, sitting back down with a smug grin. "Oh yeah! See... the education of young people was always a matter very close to my heart," The tip of his tongue darted out to touch his lower lip, his grin growing wider. "That's why I decided, instead of punishment, you would certainly benefit more from a proper learning experience."

Daryl shifted nervously around with his butt on his heels, wiping a long strand of wet hair out of his eye.

"You want to learn for me?"

Daryl hid a half-nod under a shrug of his shoulders, murmuring a small, "Mh."

"Good." Negan leaned back, face serious. "You ask for everything you need or want. You also follow my orders without talking back." He paused a moment. "You want to keep the weapon? Ask for it. You want to get up from the ground? Ask me. You want to kill one of my men because he shit in your breakfast? You. fucking. ask me." He tilted his head, slight anger flashing through his dark eyes, when Daryl looked down. "Eyes up. Repeat for me. What are you supposed to do."

Daryl raised his head, fumbling with the bottle in his hands. "Ask you."

Negan gave him a nod. "And?"

"Follow your orders." Daryl murmured, his voice rough.

"Good job." Negan turned a page in his notebook, grabbing a pen. "Let's get started then, shall we." He wrote a few lines before looking back up, gesturing with two fingers. "Drink up." 

\----

Daryl was kneeling in silence for the first hour, drinking his water, while the other man did some paper work. Once, a woman in a tight, short, black dress entered the room just to be dismissed by Negan. Then Simon came to deliver some papers.

After one hour and a half, Daryl's bottle was empty. He held it up. "Done."

Negan got up wordlessly, giving him a second one from the cabinet. "Drink up."

Daryl wanted to say that he's not thirsty, but started drinking anyway, eyeing the crossbow on the desk, figuring out how he could get it back without having to ask for it.

\----

After two hours and ten minutes, Negan vanished into the bathroom, leaving the door open. 

Daryl shifted on his heels, his legs hurt and his full bladder started to cause discomfort. He heard the shower, and then a while nothing before the tap was turned on and Negan obviously brushed his teeth.

When he came out, wearing just a pair of sweat pants, he walked right up to Daryl, stroking his fingertips for a second over long strands of hair. "Drink up." He gestured to the small rest of water in Daryl's bottle and waited until it was emptied, grudgingly. He took it and immediately got a new one from the cabinet, handing it to the man on the floor. "Drink."

Daryl took the bottle, feeling a bit ill. He unscrewed the cap, looking up to Negan through his bangs.

"You have a question?" Negan asked, no mockery in his voice at all.

Daryl cast his eyes down, shaking his head.

"Then drink." 

\----

Twenty minutes later, Negan had left the room and Daryl was short from bursting, the urge to urinate becoming overwhelming. He looked back over his shoulder at the bathroom door, considering to just go.

He pressed his thighs together, rocking back and forth on his heels. Heat of desperation crawling up his skin when he took another sip of the dreaded bottle.

"Did you finish your water?" Negan wanted to know as he came back, closing the door. 

Daryl shook his head, his cheeks bulged out with a mouth full of water, that just refused to go down. He grabbed his crotch with one hand, squeezing. 

Negan squatted down in front of him, locking eyes. "I need you to swallow that." He nudged Daryl's hand. "And no touching yourself."

Daryl swallowed, a cold shiver running down his back. He pressed down, painfully hard, with his ass into his bare heels, wriggling them, trying to find relief somehow. Anger and a twinge of panic making him breathe hard. 

30 seconds later he threw his bottle away, furious, trying to get up from the floor, but a firm hand at his arm stopped him.

"No."

Daryl looked at the other man, pure desperation in his eyes. "GOTTA TAKE A FUCKIN' PISS, MAN!" His raspy voice sounding unusually high pitched. "LE'ME GO."

"Daryl." Negan stayed calm, holding him in place. "You know what you have to do."

Not seeing another option anymore, Daryl let out an exasperated sob, the pressure in his bladder painful at this point. "Can I go to the bathroom?"

Negan nodded, releasing his arm. 

\----

Daryl was done in less than a minute, and had never washed his hands after, so he surely wasn't starting now. 

He cast a glance at his reflection in the mirror, thinking he looked still the same kind of ugly, just with cleaner hair. 

His gaze wandered down to the two toothbrushes next to the sink. He took the one he had used. After a moment he threw it with a silent curse against the wall, staring at the spot where it landed on the floor. He sat down right beside it, pulling his knees up to his chest, resting his chin on top.

He had never asked for anything. No one had ever listened when he tried. Most of the time he took what's left, the stuff that no one else wanted, and that was fine. He didn't need more. He didn't need anything from anyone.

When he left the bathroom after half an hour, he was convinced that he would escape the Sanctuary before sunrise. He would take his crossbow without asking, he would leave the room without permission, would shoot anyone in his way and ride off on his own motorbike. He would live in the woods without toothbrushes, shower gel or silly reading books.

He switched off the light and closed the door.

A tall man stood at one of the large windows in the half dark, holding a glass of bourbon. 

Daryl didn't know what to do. He wanted to say that he goes back to his room, but he didn't. Instead he went to the middle of the room and started to crouch down on the floor.

"No. Come here please." A dark, low voice told him.

Daryl fought against the ache in his stomach for 38 seconds, before he walked to Negan, looking down on both of their naked feet. 

"Closer."

The voice made his heartbeat speed up and his tongue dart out nervously to wet his lips. But he stepped closer, the fabric of his t-shirt almost touching a bare chest.

"Look at me."

He huffed a silent breath and raised his head, looking up through long bangs into a shadowy face.

"Can you put your arms behind your back for me?"

Warm breath, smelling like bourbon, brushed Daryl's face. He tensed at the strange command, but obeyed after a moment, moving stiff arms behind his back. 

Negan's dark eyes glinted at the sight. "Good boy."

Something hot and heavy shot right into Daryl's chest at the sound of the two small words.

Negan brought his glass up to Daryl's lips, making him drink half of it, smiling faintly at Daryl's bewildered expression. He put the glass down on the windowsill, cupping the side of Daryl's face with a firm hand. "You did very good." He rubbed a pale ear with two fingers. "I'm proud of you."

Embarrassment flooded Daryl's body instantly. He cast his eyes down, tensing.

Negan gave Daryl's cheek a light slap, looking serious at him. "No. Never be ashamed to ask for something that you really need or want." 

Daryl inhaled startled, his arms fidgeting.

"Ssh." Negan reached around to Daryl's back, holding him securely by the wrists. 

Daryl felt exhausted. He let his forehead sink against a naked shoulder, recognizing Negan's scent.

"Can you kiss me?" 

Daryl heard the words vibrating from deep inside Negan's chest, he felt bare arms around him and strong fingers rubbing his wrists. And after a moment of resistance, parted his lips to brush them against warm skin, right underneath Negan's collarbone.

Negan looked down, when a clumsy, wet kiss was planted on his upper chest. "Can you kiss me on the mouth?"

Daryl shook his head, hiding his face in bare skin.

"I think you can." Negan said, rubbing a bearded chin on the top of Daryl's head. "You want to try for me?"

Daryl thought 'no', a dull feeling spreading through his stomach. His heart pounded in his throat and his face felt hot, when he tried to raise his head, feeling like it was filled with lead. His jaw bumped into a rough beard, blood rushing through his ears. He held his breath and closed his eyes when his lips found Negan's mouth. He pressed a small kiss on it and then another one that lingered a moment longer, exhaling a shaky breath before his lips parted, barely enough for his tongue to slip through, touching the other man's mouth for a brief moment.

Negan angled his head, opening his mouth a bit more, offering access. 

Daryl sighed nervously, the hands behind his back clenching. He kissed Negan's lower lip and felt his guts flip strangely when warm breath brushed his skin and a very low moan rumbled from deep down Negan's throat. He parted his lips again, covering the other man's mouth with his own, his tongue shyly flicking into the warmth, finding its counterpart.

Negan deepened the kiss for a moment, indulging in Daryl's taste, before he pulled back, sweeping the tip of his tongue over a pale pink lower lip. "Mm, see..." he purred in a deep tone. "I got something I really wanted..." he moved to Daryl's ear, speaking low, "Just because I asked for it."

Daryl rubbed the side of his face against a rough beard, feeling far too drunk for the little alcohol he had consumed.

Negan chuckled quietly, releasing Daryl's wrists and instead grasping his shoulder, to guide him to the middle of the room. "Here." 

Daryl crouched on the floor, feeling cold suddenly.

Negan squatted down in front of him, making eye contact. "I know you are tired. I know where you really want to sleep." He pinched Daryl's chin with thumb and forefinger. "I know you can ask." He got up, brushing his hand over long strands of hair and went to bed.

Daryl hugged his knees, hiding his face in the fabric of his borrowed sweat pants. He chewed his nails, he closed his eyes, his mind was running. He had several words on the tip of his tongue. He inhaled several times but no word came out. He felt like crying. He felt angry.

And after almost 50 minutes, the ache in his stomach won, and four little words came out of his mouth, sounding rough and strange to his own ears, "Can I to bed?" 

But Negan heard them and lifted the blanket, invitingly.


	14. Devotion

On day 243, the kitchen of the Sanctuary served spaghetti with meatballs for lunch, for just 11 points per serving. 

Daryl told Eddie, the kitchen-guy at the counter, that he was off the points system. 

Eddie gave him a quick once-over and an amused snort. "Yeah, right."

Daryl's fingers wrapped around the brim of his metal bowl, assuming it would be solid enough to cleave the guy's head open.

"Edward!" A tall man in leather jacket hollered happily, putting a firm hand on Daryl's shoulder. "I see you serve Daryl already! We'll get three plates on a clean table. And don't forget the bread sticks." He winked to the man behind the counter and shoved Daryl to one of the free tables, speaking right next to his ear. "Good news! You sit with the cool guys today."

\----

Ten minutes later, Daryl sat at a spotless table, between the chief of the Sanctuary and Simon, the number two in charge, feeling more than uncomfortable.

A girl brought three generous portions of pasta and a basket of bread sticks, placing cutlery in front of each of the three men, like they were in a 5 star Italian restaurant.

"We'll have wine with that." Negan told her in all seriousness, unfolding a napkin.

"Man I'm starving." Simon said, digging in the food, "The shit yesterday was fucking disgusting."

"Daryl." Negan mixed some grated cheese under his noodles. "Eat."

Daryl slowly grabbed for his fork, not sure if this whole scene was a trick or a trap. But eventually his empty stomach was louder than any doubts in his head, and he started to stuff his mouth eagerly, slurping the ends of the noodles noisily through his lips, not bothering to chew.

Simon shot him a look, shaking his head with a grin. "So, did you have a chance to go over the new route I gave you?"

"Yes, looks better than the first one." Negan said, sticking his own fork into Daryl's plate, twirling a small portion of spaghetti on it. "Eat like this please." He held it up for Daryl to see.

Daryl stopped shoveling the pasta, looking embarrassed through long strands of hair. He wiped his mouth into the sleeve of his sweater. 

A girl put a bottle of wine on the table. Negan poured himself a glass in, before handing the bottle to Simon.

"So. Daryl!" Simon said with a full mouth, grabbing a bread stick, "What about you? What have you been up to lately?"

Daryl stared quietly down on his plate, moving a single noodle around with his fork.

Negan poured some wine into Daryl's glass. "You've been reading a lot. What was the last book about?"

Daryl wanted to knock the glass over and leave the table, feeling exposed and humiliated. But he managed to look up at Negan for a second, mumbling a defiant, "'bout Ireland." 

"Aah, Ireland." Negan raised his wineglass, taking a sip, "The land of saints and scholars!"

"More the land of beer and boobs." Simon laughed, drinking as well.

"Did you like it?" Negan looked at Daryl, seeming honestly interested, but got only a small shrug for an answer. He leaned in closer. "I was there. Liked it a lot."

A spark of surprise flashed through Daryl's eyes. He nodded slightly, murmuring a "Mh." while instantly a hundred questions flooded his mind, along with the image of a tall man in leather jacket, residing in the Guinness Storehouse, instead of the Sanctuary.

Negan smiled, nudging the other man's arm. "Eat."

\----

In the early afternoon, a highly damaged truck arrived back at the gates of the Sanctuary, and the only passenger left, barely managed to give a proper report, due to his serious injuries.

A crises meeting was immediately held in building A.

"They took out our outpost at Lexington Road and three of our scouts." A man said, pointing on a specific part of the road map. "Pete barely made it back."

"Are we sure it's someone new?" Another one asked, leaning against the edge of the table. "Maybe one of ours tries to start a revolt. The group down north perhaps?"

"No." Simon shook his head, "They are all monitored. And none of them would have the amount of weapons needed."

"Any idea where they could be located?"

"My guess," Simon looked closely on the map, "They don't have a camp at all. They travel through."

"So, you're telling me we just got our ass kicked by a bunch of fucking gypsies?" Negan got up, snorting. "You gotta be joking!" He took a grape off the tray Daryl was holding, popping it into his mouth. "I think Lucille might find that pretty hilarious."

"Maybe they are not even in the area anymore." A blond man with worried expression said. "Why risk more of our men?"

"Because MAYBE they are right on our doorstep, waiting to build a nice little house with the fucking bricks you are shitting!" Negan took the tray out of Daryl's hands, just to give it to the blond man, who looked a bit of dumbfounded. "Go take that to my wives, maybe you'll feel more comfortable with that job, Jason."

The others grinned when Jason left the room, his cheeks flushing a bright pink.

"Simon." Negan swirled his finger in the air, "Organize a tour, I want to see for myself what's going on."

Simon gave him a nod, leaving with the other men.

"Can you fucking believe those pussies." Negan grumbled, sitting down, annoyed.

"They took anythin'?" Daryl murmured, still standing with his back to the wall, where he was supposed to serve snacks earlier.

Negan turned his head in slight surprise, arching an eyebrow. 

Daryl looked up a bit. "If they don't come to steal stuff, they just want to kill."

Negan smiled, waving two leather clad fingers. "Come here."

Daryl did, sitting down on the floor, next to the other man's chair.

"Tell me boy... are you still high from all those fantastic meatballs you gobbled down for lunch?" Negan leaned in closer to Daryl's ear. "Or are you actually giving me advice in warfare." 

Daryl shrugged, looking defiantly through his long bangs. "'s innocent people here." 

Negan rolled his tongue behind closed lips, scrutinizing the other man's face. 

"I can track." Daryl offered more quietly, lowering his gaze a bit. "'ll find them."

"Look at you." Negan squinted his eyes, not sure whether he liked the attitude. "More spunk in your little toe than most of my own guys altogether." He stroked some long strands of hair out of Daryl's forehead, watching when he leaned into the touch. "But we'll have to save your skills for another time."

\----

Two hours later, a group of eleven armed men was ready to go. 

The gates were opened for the cars to pass, when a leather clad hand reached out of the open window, slapping the outside of the car door. "Here!"

Daryl jogged up next to the car.

"You stay in my room." Negan said, giving the other man a stern look. "On your best behavior this time! Right?" He waited for an answer, but Daryl just stared back at him.

He wanted to say it is a stupid idea to go and even more stupid for Negan to go himself, with so little information about the unknown threat. He wanted to say there are a million better ways to handle it. He wanted to ask for another chance to explain his point of view.

"Right?" Negan asked again, tugging Daryl's shirt with two fingers.

Daryl huffed a nervous breath. "Can I come with you?" It was a quietly mumbled question, but it let a faint smile wander over Negan's face. 

"Unfortunately not." He pulled Daryl closer by the shirt. "But when I'm back, you might get a reward for asking such a nice question." 

\----

The convoy started and Daryl waited for 32 minutes by the gates, staring outside, before he went back inside, making his way into building A, along an empty corridor, to Negan's private rooms.

He poured himself a glass of water, took his crossbow and sat with it on the floor behind the black leather sofa. For three hours and a half. 

Then he got up to look out of the large windows. The sun started to set and and with it anger and frustration began to rise. He considered to find a way out and track the convoy down, but then couldn't imagine a happy Negan, in case he would really find them. So he just left the room to go to the kitchen.

He ignored the strange looks he got for walking around with a crossbow over the shoulder, and didn't ask anyone for food. He cut off a huge piece of cold pork, took some apples, bread and half a block of cheese, put everything on a tray and went back to the room, not giving a shit that one kitchen worker whispered to the other, that he must be the new servant for the Harem.

He placed the tray on the coffee table and poured a glass of bourbon to put next to it. Then he went to take a shower, brush teeth and change into the clothes he would wear for bed, plus a pair of clean combat boots. 

When he sat back down behind the black leather sofa, fumbling with his crossbow, the convoy was gone for almost 6 hours. 

\----

At half past eleven in the evening, the door opened and a tired man in leather jacket entered the room. He leaned his baseball bat next to the door frame and went to the coffee table, inspecting the dinner spread out for him. He took the bourbon glass and drank half of it, then sat down on the black leather sofa with a sigh. He patted the outside of the armrest with his hand, twice. 

Daryl got up and placed his crossbow back on the desk, before he crouched down on the carpet, next to Negan's leg.

Dark eyes looked at him quietly and he stared back through damp strands of hair.

"That's a nice dinner." Negan said, drinking the rest of his bourbon. "Thank you." 

Daryl took the empty glass out of his hand and put it on the table. He picked one of the bread slices from the tray, holding it out for Negan.

"Let me take a shower first." Leather clad fingers brushed over long strands of hair. "Be right back." Negan got up and vanished into the bathroom. 

When he came back out, freshly showered, wearing just a pair of sweat pants, he brought a cloud of warm, misty air with him through the open door, making the room smell like soap and shampoo. 

He walked over to where Daryl was kneeling, stopping right behind him, bumping a knee into his back.

Daryl looked up, meeting challenging eyes. Two demanding fingers reached down to spread his lips, pushing deep inside his mouth, pressing down hard on his tongue, sliding purposefully to the back of his throat, making him gag.

Negan held his fingers there a moment, towering over the kneeling man, enjoying the submissive posture and bewildered blue eyes. "Good boy." Then pulled back and sat down on the black leather sofa, starting to eat dinner. "We've found two. Had to kill one." He said in a mixture of frustration and triviality. "Brought the other one back with us. Maybe she contains some information ." He took a bite of an apple and then held it in front of Daryl's mouth to do the same. "I mean if we dig hard enough."

Daryl chewed and gave a slight nod, not saying anything.

"Ever tortured anyone?" Negan cut off a piece of pork, holding it with the knife to Daryl's lips. "You and your group?"

Daryl ate it off the blade, nodding again with a small shrug of his shoulders. "Hm."

Negan chuckled and then ate for the next six minutes in silence, just handing bits and pieces over to Daryl in between. He got up when he was finished, pouring himself a glass of water. He drank most of it and walked over to the kneeling man on the floor, holding the glass to his lips, making him drink the rest. 

"Come." He went to sit on the edge of the bed, spreading his legs, waiting patiently for Daryl to follow and kneel down. "Hands behind your back."

Daryl did, his arms trembling slightly when he looked up into the intense stare of dark eyes. 

"You've done a lot of things today to please the fucking hell out of me." Negan said, tilting his head. "Report. How did you please me."

"I wear your boots." Daryl murmured quietly, feeling the hard soles dig into his ass. "'made dinner." His gaze dropped a second to his knees, but he looked back up for the next words. "Took a shower." 

"Hh." Negan poked the tip of his tongue against the inside of his lips, his eyes glinting with delight. "Damn great reporting, Daryl. Good job." He reached out to cup the side of Daryl's face, rubbing the soft skin behind his ear with firm fingertips. "You also improved your table manners. And you waited for me... on your very fucking best behavior." He leaned in closer, wide into the other man's private space. "But I liked the most... that you asked me when you wanted something. Right?"

Daryl wanted to nod, but it didn't happen.

It didn't matter, Negan nodded for him and then kissed him slow and deep, making Daryl's insides turn and flip and the ache in his stomach painfully strong.

"You will please me even more now." Negan spoke against wet lips, grazing them with his teeth. "You will make me come." 

Daryl tensed, trying to pull back, but a strong hand held his head in place.

"Right inside your pretty mouth." Negan leaned in to kiss him again, holding his head with both hands, doing wicked things to the inside of Daryl's mouth, making him moan and pant in response. "Good boy." He pulled back when Daryl tried to move closer, guiding the man's abandoned mouth to his crotch. He pulled the loose waistband of his sweatpants down in a swift motion, exposing his half hard cock, chuckling quietly when Daryl's lips adapted to the new offer immediately. Kissing cautiously, before he darted his tongue out and parted his lips.

Daryl felt his heart racing, his blood pumping and his face flushing with heat. Firm fingers wrapped in his hair, holding it out of his eyes. He opened his mouth, feeling the tip of Negan's penis bump against his lips, he held his breath, lapping at the unfamiliar skin with his tongue before closing his mouth around it to suck slightly. 

"Good job, Daryl." Negan's voice sounded soft and leveled, he combed his fingers through long strands of hair, using the other hand to take hold of his cock and guide it into Daryl's mouth, along with a supporting finger, to prevent teeth from scratching or to encourage a tongue to come out. "See how hard you make me?" He looked down at Daryl licking a bead of pre-come, shuddering a breath against the exposed flesh. 

He hooked a thumb behind Daryl's bottom teeth, keeping his mouth open. "Tongue out... take me in." 

Daryl did, looking up with dazed eyes when Negan slid his length slowly into his mouth, pulled back a little, and pushed back in a moment later. 

"Suck me nicely." A dark voice ordered, sending shivers through Daryl's lower abdomen.

The supporting thumb left and Daryl wrapped his lips tightly around the hard shaft, sucking and stroking with his tongue, pushing his face more into Negan's groin, closing his eyes, humming quietly when a safe hand covered the back of his head. 

"Such a good place for you, right." Negan growled, loving the innocent, wet slurping and smacking sounds and the feel of a soft tongue on him. "Come here." He pulled Daryl's head up, holding him by the jaw, locking eyes for a moment before licking red, glistening lips, diving deep between them with a groan, kissing passionately.

Daryl felt a burning sensation from the soles of his feet, over the crooks of his arms, to the back of his neck. It made breathing difficult and his own erection twitch. He took an arm off his back and touched himself, squeezing with his fingers and pressing his thighs tightly together with a shaky breath, huffed into Negan's mouth.

"No." Negan stopped the kiss immediately, grasping Daryl's jaw painfully, nudging his lower leg with the side of his foot. "Hands behind your back." He hissed demandingly, piercing stare on Daryl's close face. "You don't touch yourself. You please me."

Daryl blinked, trying to focus on Negan's eyes and voice. He moved his hand behind his back, nodding slightly, feeling confused.

Negan stared him down. "That's better.", circling his fingers around his own throbbing erection, stroking himself, not loosing eye contact. "You want me to fuck your mouth?"

Daryl parted his lips slightly without thinking, then cast his eyes down, shame stabbing his stomach.

"You want to be good, isn't that right." Negan pulled him closer, kissing him, releasing his jaw, guiding him back down with a hand on the back of his head. "Open your mouth for me." He stroked his thumb over the glistening, blunt tip of his cock, groaning quietly when soft, clumsy lips bumped against it and a shy tongue darted out to have a taste. 

Daryl closed his eyes, surrounded by musky smell, warm skin and salty flavor. He opened his mouth, feeling Negan slide along his tongue, feeling soothing fingers massaging the back of his head. He started sucking and moving his head slightly, wrapping his lips with tight pressure around the hardness in his mouth. 

A proud warmth spread around his chest, when he heard low panting coming from Negan along with small words of praise. It made him double his efforts even when his stretched lips started to hurt from maintaining a constant viselike pressure. He stopped a moment, pulling back to breathe, smacking his wet lips, swallowing soundly, and then took Negan back in again, rubbing his tongue hard against the underside, while sucking eagerly.

"Good boy." Negan said, stroking through long strands of hair, pushing Daryl's head down on his length with more pressure, feeling himself bump against the back of a warm throat and the other man tensing instantly. "But that's where we go." He explained in a dark, low voice, pulling back a bit, just to push in again with emphasis. "All the way down there." He pulled back again, letting Daryl process the information, looking down in satisfaction when a soft, wet tongue lapped at his throbbing cock before it vanished again between swollen lips, much darker than usual. He took Daryl's head in both hands, guiding it up and down his shaft in an even rhythm, enjoying the amount of warm saliva running down his length and the other man's chin, confirming the devotion brought into this task. Daryl hollowed his cheeks around him, sucking him in deep, making Negan groan and hiss a sharp breath. 

He pulled Daryl's head off slowly. "Sit back." He got up from the bed, letting his pants fall around his ankles, watching when Daryl moved back a little in his kneeling position, wiping his spit wet mouth with the back of his hand, before moving both arms obediently behind his back again. 

Negan looked down at him, very pleased, smiling faintly, sliding two fingers between Daryl's lips, pushing them deeper in until he hit the back of his throat, guiding them down a little. He raised his brows, and locked eyes, when Daryl gagged noisily. "Breathe through your nose." He stroked himself with the other hand, slow and steady. Repeatedly shoving his fingers in and out of Daryl's mouth at the same time, a bit deeper each time, never loosing eye contact. "Very good job, Daryl." He pulled the fingers off, putting them under Daryl's chin to guide his head in the right position. "Kneel up straight." He looked down, rubbing the spit-slick head of his cock teasingly against the corner of Daryl's mouth. "Good boy. Open up."

Daryl did, sticking his broad tongue out, opening wide. 

Negan slid between his lips smoothly, placing a firm hand on the back of Daryl's head, moving his hips in a steady pace, watching hungrily from above as he thrust into the other man's mouth. Ten times, eleventh, by the twelfth he pressed in deep, hitting the back of Daryl's throat, making him gag against the tip of his cock. He pulled back, cupping the side of Daryl's face gently, "Take a breath." and after a moment repeated the action, this time breaching the tight ring of his throat, holding it two seconds, before withdrawing again. "Well done!" He growled approvingly, stroking Daryl's face. 

Daryl looked up at him, blinking, breathing heavily, coughing once, but opened his mouth again willingly. 

"Good boy, Daryl!" He slid in and out of the other man's mouth a few times before he pushed again in with much more pressure, not stopping when Daryl gagged around him, tensing up with the unfamiliar feeling. He pushed in further, cussing silently when he heard Daryl choke and gag again, feeling the tight throat muscles work on him. He pulled back out, making Daryl gasp for air. "Look at you, taking me all the way in!" He praised in the most encouraging voice, "Like a fucking champion, right boy!" 

Daryl looked up at Negan, breathing hard, feeling sore and warm and proud.

"Again?" Negan asked, nodding his head at Daryl in positive affirmation, "Yeah, you want more, right." He pushed in, locking eyes with Daryl, holding him steady by the back of his head. "Fucking good boy." His voice sounded dark and husky when he entered the man's throat again, pressing down hard, feeling the muscles tighten around him, holding his position, seeing blue eyes watering up and with the next blink floating over, making a tear run down the outer corner of Daryl's eye. He thumbed it away and pulled back with a groan, chuckling breathless, looking down adoringly when Daryl gasped for breath, smacking his wet lips, a thin trail of saliva running down he corner of his mouth. "You Sir, get an A fucking plus."

Daryl shifted on his heels, kneeling up higher, opening his mouth again, lapping at the tip of Negan's cock invitingly.

"Seems we found something that makes you wet, right boy." Negan pushed in again, slowly thrusting down, feeling throat and mouth tighten around him as Daryl's gag reflex struggled for control and lost the battle. Negan pulled the other man in even closer, all the way down to the base of his cock, hearing him choke and gag and struggle for air, holding him another second, before he released him, just for a moment this time and then thrust in again, creating a rhythm. Thick saliva coating his cock with each stroke. Gagging noises mixed with soppy sounds and heavy breathing. He wrapped his fingers into long strands of hair, pulling lightly, closing his eyes with a deep groan when Daryl swallowed around him in an attempt to gain control of the overflowing amount of saliva. 

Daryl looked up at Negan, seeing the ecstasy on his face, hearing him groan and pant, feeling a strong hand on the back of his head guiding him, and the overwhelming thickness down his throat, stopping breath and thoughts and heartbeat. He knelt up an inch higher, wanting more, needing to be closer, but in the end having to pull back when the last bit of oxygen left his lungs and he started to get dizzy. 

He gasped for breath, a string of saliva formed between his lips and the base of Negan's cock as he pulled back.

Negan looked down with dazed eyes, swiping his thumb at the drool running down Daryl's chin, breathing heavily, waiting for the slight nod of confirmation and pushing back in immediately when it came. "Swallow." He growled, thrusting in and out of Daryl's throat, moaning deep in his chest when he felt the tight muscles move around him with every stroke, "Fucking good job, Daryl." He pulled Daryl's head up close one more time, all the way down to the base of his cock, feeling him fight for air, hearing him choke and gag soundly, and it pushed him over the edge with a feral growl, oozing streams of thick come down the other man's throat.

Daryl's nostrils flared with heavy breathing, salty, tangy semen mixing up with gooey saliva, running down the sides of his mouth when it became too much to swallow. 

Negan pulled back, his hands combing through long strands of hair, while his body calmed down from the shudders and tension of orgasm. 

Daryl leaned his forehead against Negan's groin, catching his breath, licking his lips, coughing quietly once or twice.

"Awesome." Negan chuckled under his breath, "That was REALLY good, boy."

Daryl felt heat flushing the skin of his chest and face and dug his nose into Negan's bare thigh.

"Wait here." Negan stroked a long strand of hair behind Daryl's ear and stepped back, pulling his pants up. He vanished into the bathroom and came back out five minutes later with a wet cloth. "Look at me."

Daryl looked up through long, slightly sweaty bangs, and was surprised by a serious Negan, cleaning his face with a cool, wet wash cloth. He held perfectly still, not daring to blink. It felt so good, he almost whimpered when it was gone and Negan went into the bathroom again.

The next time he came back out, he patted his thigh, "Come here." and went to bed.

Daryl stayed on the floor a moment longer, until he felt too cold and too alone, then he got up, his legs protesting. He put his boots off and walked to the bed, feeling shy, considering to just sleep on the floor. But Negan held the blanket up, so he climbed in, moving awkwardly, lying down on the mattress, at the edge of the bed with as much distance as possible to the other man. 

"Here." A deep, strict voice told him, obviously annoyed by the arm's length between them.

Before Daryl had a chance to think about other options, a firm arm wrapped around his waist, pulling him up forcefully, flush with his back to Negan's front. 

"It's called fucking spooning." A low voice hissed to the back of his head, "What's wrong with you? I just shoved my dick down your throat, least you can do is keep it warm the rest of the night." Negan pulled Daryl's ass against his groin, giving the semi hardness between the other man's legs a warning squeeze. "And don't touch yourself. You come when I say you come." 

Daryl didn't say a word, didn't blink and tried to hold his breath as long as he could. It was the first time that he slept like this with another person, having someone alongside the complete length of his body, an arm around his waist, radiating body heat, warm breath in his hair. 

It made his throat tight and his heart stumble. It made him feel safe and quiet in the best possible way. It relaxed every inch of his body.

He stared into the darkness, wishing sunrise would never come.

A firm hand on his stomach gave a slight tug. "Sleep."

He closed his eyes, trying his best.


	15. Focus

On day 244, Daryl woke up with a firm hand between his legs and moist lips on his face.

"Not sure why you're lying here, looking all hot and pretty," Negan said, licking Daryl's cheekbone. "When you're supposed to do your fucking morning chores." He slid his hand inside loose sweatpants, giving the twitching cock he found a couple of experienced strokes. 

Daryl sighed a shaky breath, his eyes refusing to open.

"Seems you are a lazy bum." Negan dismissed the erection he created, moving his fingers deeper between warm ass cheeks. "Nope. Feels good." He rubbed his index finger along Daryl's crack, pushing over the entrance teasingly, making him tense. "A bit empty maybe." He moved back up again, giving Daryl's balls a squeeze, hissing against his mouth. "You don't wanna serve me today?" He licked pale pink lips. "Do I have to ask someone else to bring my breakfast?"

Daryl tried to shake his head, feeling the blood pulsing through his veins and his feet tingle.

"No?" Negan mimicked the slight shake of Daryl's head, licking his lips again. "You want to get up and serve me like a good boy?" He gave his erection three more slow strokes.

Daryl nodded, a quiet moan escaping his lips. He raised his hips, wanting more of the strong fingers.

"No." Negan pulled his hand out of the other man's pants, circling it around his throat instead, squeezing lightly. "You can't come just like that." He kissed Daryl's lips, smiling when the tip of a wet tongue darted out. "You'll have to tend to my needs first, right? You also have to ask nicely if you may come." Blue eyes fluttered open, looking at Negan in blank despair. He chuckled, pushing himself up to look down in a pale face. He brushed some strands of hair out of Daryl's forehead. "How about wishing me a good morning for a start."

"mornin'."The small word sounded rough and made Negan arch his eyebrow in doubt.

"We'll have to work on that." He patted Daryl's cheek. "Now go get my breakfast, Lucille hates an empty stomach."

"'didn't shower yet." Daryl said quietly, confused by the reversed order of his tasks.

Negan looked at him, studying him carefully, leaning down to sniff soundly at his neck and hair. "We'll skip that step today. Keep smelling like me." 

\----

"He said suddenly, 'Bagoas' and I was st-st..."

"Startled." Negan said, not looking up from his breakfast.

Daryl huffed a breath, continuing in low voice. "- startled into looking up. As one mm...might smile at the child of a strr a stranger?" He cleared his throat, looking up at Negan for confirmation and got a small nod. "- a stranger seeing it scared, so he did at me, and said to the interp interpeter?"

"Interpreter." Negan corrected. "Someone who translates speech." He waved with two fingers. "Go on."

"- said to the interpreter, 'Ask the boy if he is here of his own free will.'"

"Very good." Negan put a slice of apple into Daryl's mouth. "What do you think, will Alexander like Bagoas?"

Daryl chewed the apple, shrugging his shoulders. "Hm." The only thing he knew for sure, was that reading a book was hard work and his knees hurt from kneeling.

"Stop fidgeting around." A leather clad hand grabbed the back of Daryl's neck. "Straight back. Go on reading."

Daryl put his finger on the book page, searching the right line. "I said, 'My lord, I sp I sp speak Greek a lit-'"

Negan stopped him with a gesture of his hand, when someone knocked at the door. "Yes, come in."

"Sorry to interrupt?" Dwight entered the room, looking confused at the kneeling person on the floor, before a smug grin tugged at the corners of his swollen lips. "Erm... should I come back later?"

"Stop grinning, your fucking mouth might burst!" Negan got up from his chair, taking the book from Daryl's hands and instead giving him the rest of the apple. "What do you want." 

"Simon makes progress, maybe you want to come." Dwight pointed both of his thumbs to the left, to imply the right direction, and then nodded to the man on the floor. "I can watch... him."

"Tell Simon I'm on the way." Negan took the breakfast tray off the desk, shoving it into the blond man's hands. "And take that with you to the kitchen."

Dwight shot Daryl an amused look, snorting silently and turned to leave the room.

Daryl jumped up with a growl, lashing out to throw the apple at Dwight's back, but hit only the door when it closed behind him.

Negan scrunched up his face in anger. "Did I tell you to get the fuck up?"

Daryl breathed heavily, clenching his fists, but kept his gaze down. 

"You kneel for me. You fucking focus on me. It doesn't matter who else is in the room." Negan hissed, "You don't like my man's attitude, you fucking tell me about it and don't throw my fucking food around!"

Daryl didn't say anything, but after a moment, bent down to pick up the apple from the floor. Not knowing what else to do, he held it out to Negan apologetically. When the other man showed no sign of accepting it, Daryl took a small bite of it himself and crouched down on the floor, leaning his forehead against Negan's leg with a small huff of breath.

After almost two minutes, a leather clad hand brushed the top of his head. "You should know that has nothing to do with weakness." It was the only thing Negan said, before he went to grab his baseball bat. He opened the door to leave, but stopped in his tracks when Daryl spoke in low voice.

"Can I come with you?"

Negan nodded, not turning around. He patted the side of his thigh.

Daryl didn't get up from the floor, he lowered his head, his words sounding nervous. "Can I take my weapon?"

Negan turned around, slightly sucking his lips in, watching Daryl carefully. "Why would you need it?" He didn't receive an answer and squatted down in front of Daryl, holding his bat with both hands, angling his head in an attempt to look the other man in the eye. "You can keep your weapon. Thank you for asking."

Daryl raised his head a little, looking through long strands of hair, his fingers fumbling with the thick carpet.

"But don't insult me. You just asked if you may come with me." Negan said, his tone serious. "It's not your job to keep me safe. And sure as hell it's not your job to keep yourself safe as long as you are with me." He paused a moment. "I do that."

Blue eyes darted around nervously, not sure where to look.

"You really think that thing is on my desk because I am worried that you kill me? Don't be ridiculous. I let you sleep in my damn bed, boy." Negan moved the tip of his bat to raise Daryl's chin up, creating eye contact. "You just don't need it. You need to focus on me instead, I told you."

Daryl stared at him, feeling guilty and ashamed, like the biggest failure ever. 

"No interpreter needed to know what's going on in here." Negan smiled, tipping his bat a bit higher to Daryl's forehead and stood back up with a sigh. "Take it when I'm not around. Trust me when I am with you." He walked to the door, holding Lucille with one hand and patted his thigh with the other. "Here."

\----

The hallways of the Sanctuary were busy. It was delivery day, and the pickings of three communities were carried inside, listed and stashed away. 

Daryl didn't look up. Not when a guy approached Negan to get a signature, not when a man had a question concerning the arms depot, not when a girl in a short dress stopped right in front of Negan to stand on her tip toes and give him a kiss, with a disgusting red lipstick mouth. Daryl held his distance of five foot to Negan's black combat boots.

They walked through a staircase, some heavy doors, over a gallery, downstairs, through a packed dining hall, where every one fell to their knees as soon as a tall man in leather jacket came in sight. Daryl's legs twitched for the split of a second, not sure if he was supposed to do the same. But Negan kept walking, patting the side of his thigh twice, so Daryl followed him. 

"Negan!" A bald guy with dark beard jogged up to his boss. "Community down north is ten bags of corn short, they offered meat instead."

Negan pointed the tip of his baseball bat to his man's chest. "Why."

"What do you mean?"

"What do I mean?" Negan arched his brows, "I MEAN, did their neighbors come over for a big fiesta? Were they overrun by a herd of goddamn hamsters OR was the fucking weather too bad for a good harvest?" He dug Lucille with emphasis into a tense rib cage. "Did you ask Jim for the reason?"

The nameless Savior shook his head, trying to step out of Lucille's radius.

"We have enough meat. What we need is fucking corn." Negan growled. "Find the problem and see what can be done to correct it."

The man nodded, rubbing the sore spot on his chest when he jogged off.

"Fucking incompetent people everywhere." Negan grumbled, putting Lucille over his shoulder, opening the door to the cell blocks. "Daryl! Here I said."

\----

A piercing scream echoed through the empty corridor of the Sanctuary's prison. Simon cleaned his bloody knife on a stained cloth, looking calmly at the dazed figure, sitting on a chair in the middle of the cell. The only thing keeping her from falling on the floor was the tight rope around her upper body. 

"Again." Negan said, his voice dark and controlled, "How big is your group?"

She tried to raise her head, thick blood dripping from the corner of her mouth. She spit in Negan's direction. "Big."

Negan nodded to Simon, giving him the sign to go on.

Daryl watched from his place by the door, as Simon slid the blade of his knife along the woman's skin, right through an already existing cut on the inside of her thigh, widening the wound. She tried to suppress the scream needing to come out, unsuccessfully.

"How big is your group." Negan repeated quietly and after half a minute of silence, lunged out, smashing his barbed wire bat into the gaping wound at her thigh, with full force, splattering blood through the room.

Simon kept her chair from falling over, cutting deep into the same leg, right above her knee, just a second later, making her cry out in agony.

"How big is your group." Negan said, his voice dropping to a frosty point zero, his bare hand reaching out to touch her bloody chin, raising it.

She quivered, fighting hard to get a word out. "You're already dead."

Daryl shot an icy look at the back of her head, clenching his fists. He wanted to strangle that fucking bitch, getting more information out of her stupid stubborn mouth.

"Ksst." Negan snapped his fingers at Daryl, without even looking at him. "Come here." He waited until the other man was next to him, and patted his shoulder with a broad grin. "See that? You're pissing my boy Daryl off with your shitty behavior." He furrowed his brows. "Is that cool?"

The girl looked up through swollen eyes. "Go to hell."

Negan shook his head in complete incomprehension. "Why is everyone telling me that?"

Simon laughed, cleaning his knife again.

"Daryl." Negan handed him the baseball bat. "Go clean her please and wait in my room."

Daryl took the bat, wanting to contradict, but didn't after a look at Negan's stern face. He walked to the door, touching the handle.

"And fix something to eat. I will certainly be hungry when I'm done here." 

Daryl left the room without a glance back, hearing a heavy punch, fist meeting a fracturing nose, underlined by a muffled scream, when he closed the door.

\----

Two men worked in the kitchen and shot the man with the baseball bat a confused look, when he entered the room, going straight for the roasted chicken legs.

"What are you doing?" The nameless man with the dish scrubber asked.

Daryl didn't answer, taking a huge bite of the still warm chicken.

"That's for lunch, you can't just take it." The other man said, making a few steps towards Daryl, but stopped when he looked at the bloody baseball bat in his hand.

Daryl stared at him, putting some chicken legs and roasted potatoes into a bowl. He took another bite of meat, grabbed the full bowl and left without a word.

\----

Back in Negan's room, he put the food on the coffee table, along with a glass of water, took another chicken leg for himself and devoured it, sitting on the carpet. He licked his fingers clean and then went to the bathroom to wash the blood off the baseball bat. He dried it carefully, hid the stained towel under the sink and switched off the light.

After a quick look around, he decided to lean the bat next to the door frame against the wall. Then went to lie down on the black leather sofa, waiting for Negan to come back. He put an arm over his face, sighing tiredly. His eyes fell shut after 16 minutes.

Sudden loud noise startled him awake, an hour later. He jumped up, immediately grabbing the crossbow from the desk. 

The noise came from outside, so he went to the large windows, to peer out. It was still broad daylight and a swarm of strangers, at least a hundred of them, with pikes and axes tried to fight their way through the walker fence. Some had additional guns, aiming for the handful of surprised Saviors, who fought back totally uncoordinated, yelling around for back up.

"Shit." Daryl looked around, not sure what to do. Should he stay in the room or look for Negan. He saw Lucille leaning next to the door frame, but decided the bat wouldn't be much of a help. He looked out of the window again, seeing the first two attackers climb over the fence. His heart was racing. He looked again to the door and after a moment of hesitation, ran out on the corridor, carrying his crossbow, carefully looking for cover, before he went through the heavy door, into the staircase. It was quiet and he hurried down the stairs and out on the gallery. The dining hall was almost empty. He crossed it, heading for the next door and the long corridor, leading to the cell blocks. He held his breath, ducking behind a wall, when three people dressed in self made armor appeared ten foot in front him, armed with guns and axes. They tried for every door, peeked into each room, finally vanishing into one. Daryl's heart was almost jumping out of his chest, realizing it was the cell with the captured girl. 

He broke cover immediately, running to the open door, aiming for the person holding a gun, shooting her straight in the head. He reloaded, but hadn't enough time to fire, before a second person attacked him, swinging an axe. He ducked and in the next moment hit the front of his crossbow across his face, hard enough to shatter bones. The person fell to the floor and a second arrow hit the last attacker in the head, going down silently. Daryl stood in the open cell door, looking around, breathing heavily. Neither Negan nor Simon was there, just an unconscious, bloody girl on a chair. He went in, pulling the arrow out of his victim's head, grabbing a gun that had fallen to the floor. He went to the door, shooting the chair girl in the head, took his second arrow and ran off.

He went through a door into a staircase he never used before and could hear the gunfire of machine guns coming from outside, mixed with some yelling and shouting of people going down or getting injured. He shouldered his crossbow and held the gun ready to fire when he took the way upstairs, to the last possible door, opened carefully and stepped out onto the roof. Crouching down, he peered down at the yard, trying to find a tall man in leather jacket among the crowd of fighting people. A lot of Saviors had made their way outside by now, fighting effectively with heavy guns against the attackers. Daryl could see some of the strangers being able to reach the outside stairs unimpeded, and immediately shot them, hitting them with clean strikes in the head, before they could get inside the building. 

He squinted his eyes, scanning the battle scene on the ground one more time, trying to filter Negan from the rest of the men, but couldn't see him. So he, went back into the staircase, running four levels down to the ground floor, and ducked immediately when a bullet almost hit his head as soon as he opened the door. He shot the first attacker coming into sight, shot a second and collected a lost weapon off the ground, using it to kill two more, before he found a place to cover, behind a car. One of Negan's men hid there already, bleeding heavily. Daryl handed him one of the guns, gesturing for him to be quiet. He looked left and right, keeping his head down when he ran out of hiding, shooting two girls carrying self made axes, running behind a container of firewood. He threw the gun away, realizing he was out of ammunition, and instead took the crossbow off his shoulder, holding it ready to shoot. His heart racing, beads of sweat running down his temple, he made a quick decision to run across the yard to the outside stairs of building A. He jumped onto the loading dock, crouching down when a shot was fired in his direction, hitting the roll-up door behind him. The next second he looked up, seeing too late how a man in self made armor, right above him, swung an axe right onto his head. He froze, holding his breath, awaiting the impact. But the man collapsed, falling on him, with the ear-shattering sound of a machine gun.

"OH BOY, are you in fucking deep shit trouble!" A tall man in leather jacket, kicked the dead body off of Daryl's back, grabbing him by the fabric of his shirt, yanking him on his feet, shouting right in his face. "What the bleeding FUCK are you doing down here!" 

Daryl looked up into Negan's close face, dark eyes full of rage, and he was so relieved, he wanted to hug him or fall to his knees. He did neither of the two, but flew around and shot an arrow right into the forehead of an attacking woman, running in his direction.

Negan cursed something uncouthly, firing a salvo at the attackers still gathering behind the fence, mowing down at least twenty people. "Now that kind of shit gives me FUCKING CHILLS UP MY BUTT CRACK!" He hollered in full satisfaction, shooting another time when he spied two more of the intruders, still moving. "SIMON!" He yelled at his right hand man, standing on one of the metal stairs. "Take some men! See if there are more!"

Simon nodded, jogging off.

Daryl wanted to do the same, attempting to jump off the loading dock, to check the compound for more attackers.

"Oh no." A dangerously dark voice told him, a leather clad hand holding him by the arm. "You fucking go to my room."

Daryl looked at him, yanking his arm free. "I can help."

"TO!" Negan hissed. "My fucking room. Now."

Daryl's nostrils flared when he glared back at the other man through his sweaty bangs, clenching his crossbow in a vice like grip. After a moment he gave in, turning around to enter the building, kicking the wall as he did so.

\----

In the early evening, the Sanctuary was double checked and cleared of any attackers. Three men worked on repairing the gates, six others chained the fallen and turned enemies as new walkers in front of the fence. Three dead Saviors were burned and a troop of ten heavily armed men scanned the area for possible hidden people, who might just wait for their chance to attack. Two were found and killed. One other killed himself before a Savior bullet could end his life.

A tall man in leather jacket, walked through the hallways of the Sanctuary with a baseball bat over his shoulder, stopping on the gallery, towering over a packed dining hall. One hundred and seven people fell to their knees, lowering their heads in submission.

"We live in hard times." Negan said, his deep voice resounding loud and clear through the huge room. "We know that. We have to be prepared for THE REAL UGLY SHIT EVERY DAY! We have to DEFEND what we own. We have to FIGHT for our lives, on each new day." He made a pause, overlooking his followers with a serious face. "We had to fight today. And we did it well. We are the Saviors and the new world is ours as long as we keep fighting!" He spoke a bit louder. "We will keep defeating everyone in our way! Everyone trying to take what's ours!" The people on the floor started to cheer, first quietly and then more confident. Some applauded and raised their heads, looking up to their leader. "FREE BEER AND WINE FOR EVERYONE TONIGHT!" Negan raised his voice. "Drink to our three fallen fighters! DRINK TO THE SANCTUARY AND THE NEW WORLD ORDER!" He gestured with his hand for the people to get up on their feet, bathed a moment in the applause he received and then turned around to vanish into the staircase, leading to building A.

He entered his private rooms half an hour after sunset, placing Lucille next to the door frame, dark eyes searching the room for another person. He found Daryl, sitting with his back to the armrest of a black leather sofa, fumbling with his crossbow. The complete bowl of chicken legs was empty, except for some bones. The glass of water was gone.

Negan walked up to him, nudging one of Daryl's feet with his boot. "Did you eat my dinner?" The only answer he received was a defiant glare through long strands of hair.

He didn't comment on it, just took the crossbow out of Daryl's hands and placed it on the desk. "Go get me something to eat." His tone was free of any emotion. "You have ten minutes."

Daryl inhaled angrily, glaring up again before he obeyed and moved to his feet, making a point of stopping by the desk to shoulder his crossbow. He left the room without a glance back, shutting the door soundly. 

\----

It opened again after 9 minutes and 48 seconds. Daryl didn't look up when he walked to the coffee table, to place the tray with food on it. 

Negan sat on the black leather sofa, gritting his teeth, pointing a finger to the desk, not saying a word.

Daryl stared at the other man almost a full minute, before the burning in his stomach got too painful, and he took the crossbow off his shoulder to place it on the desk.

"A fresh glass of water." Negan said, cutting a piece of meat.

Daryl went to pour him a glass of water and put it on a free spot on the tray.

"Strip. Fold your clothes. Stand in the corner, face to the wall."

Daryl raised his head, shock on his pale face. "No."

"Five minutes." Negan said, leaving no room for discussion. He placed the cutlery next to the plate and took his water.

Daryl stepped back, gesturing with his arm defensively. "Ain't gonna strip!"

Negan drank his water, calmly put the glass back on the table, grabbed the fork and ate a piece of potato, taking all the time in the world. "Clock is ticking, boy."

Anger and panic made Daryl's chest heave, he wanted to shout and kick someone, he wanted to take his crossbow and run out. He wanted tell Negan to please stop. He wanted to kneel and hide his face at Negan's thigh, feeling a safe hand on his head. He wanted to say that he really couldn't.

"Daryl." Negan looked at the other man, calm and reassuring. "You can do it. Four minutes."

Lips trembling slightly, hot pain rising up through a too tight throat, Daryl put his shoes off, kicking one of them away with a frustrated sob. He looked around, choosing the opposite side of the room, the darkest corner, with the greatest distance to the black leather sofa. He opened his pants with shaking fingers, stepping out of them with weak knees. He folded them extra carefully, putting them on the floor, close to the wall. Sniffing his nose and feeling ill to the stomach, when he pulled his sweaty shirt in an awkward motion over his head. He placed it on top of the pants and sat down to pull his socks off, feeling his eyes well up when he put them as last item on his small pile of clothes. Then he stood up, wiping the back of his hand angrily over his wet eyes and faced the wall, banging his forehead twice into the hard surface.

Negan got up from his place on the couch, collecting Daryl's shoes off the floor, walking over to him, putting them neatly next to the pile of clothes. He stood close behind the naked man, feeling him tense and tremble. "I will finish my dinner." He spoke clear and controlled, not touching Daryl in any way. "Then I take a shower. Then I come back to you." He waited a moment, listening as the other man's unsteady breathing settled into a more natural flow again. "Good boy. Don't touch the wall please." He walked off, and sat down again to eat his food, taking his time. He refilled his glass, drank it and put the empty chicken bowl to the other dishes on the tray in the end. Then he went to the door to lock it twice, and grabbed some fresh clothes from the dresser, to vanish with it into the bathroom, leaving the door open. 

Daryl kept his head down, chin on his chest, listening to the sounds of a belt falling to the bathroom floor, clothes being taken off, the use of a toilet, water running, Negan coughing once. He could smell soap and after a while toothpaste, thinking it was ridiculous how long Negan brushed his teeth, before he rinsed his mouth. When he heard the light being switched off, his body tensed again and his heartbeat fastened. He held his breath when he sensed the other man coming closer, stopping right behind him, almost touching his back. The scent of clean skin and freshly washed hair invaded his nose. 

"You were supposed to go back to this room and stay here." A deep voice explained. "I told you, it is not your job to keep me safe. Or yourself. I told you I would do that." Negan made a pause, nudging Daryl's arm when he leaned his forehead against the wall for a second. "Maybe you don't believe me. Maybe you don't understand what my job is. Or you are worried that I suck at what I'm doing." He drew his lips in, touching them with his tongue, walking over to the door to get his baseball bat. When he stepped back behind Daryl, he spoke in a low tone. "Maybe you still don't get who you are." He brushed the tip of his bat along Daryl's naked leg, making it twitch. "Am I right?"

Daryl breathed soundly through his nose, clenching his fists, not knowing what to say.

"Tell me." Negan spoke right next to Daryl's ear. "Who are you."

Daryl closed his eyes, feeling angry and vulnerable. But he answered, quietly. "Daryl."

"Almost. Try again."

Daryl moved an inch closer to the wall, shaking his head slightly, refusing to say another word.

"Mine." Negan growled, pushing Lucille harder into a naked leg. "This is mine." He moved the bat higher, "This." sliding it up Daryl's side, over his arm. "Is mine." He brushed his bearded chin over the back of Daryl's neck. "Mine." He moved closer, standing flush with Daryl's backside, touching his legs, his ass, covering the man's back with his bare chest, speaking into sweaty hair. "My Daryl. That's who you are. From head to fucking toe. You. belong. to me." 

Daryl froze, feeling a completely naked man touching every inch of his body. Muscular legs pressing into his thighs, a half hard penis rubbing against his ass, a broad, hairy chest covering his back like a safe rock to hide behind. He felt warm breath in his hair and a strong arm snake around his waist. A deep voice speaking possessive words.

"My job is to lead and keep you safe. All of you." There was a pause, when Negan rubbed the side of his face against the back of Daryl's head. " Your job is to listen and follow. You can disagree but YOU CAN'T. Disobey." He hissed sharply. "It doesn't matter if you like it. But you fucking accept that my word is final."

Daryl melted into the tall body, bringing his own hand up to touch the firm fingers resting on his stomach. He wanted to explain why he didn't stay in the room. He wanted to say sorry. He wanted to throw that horrible key away, so the locked door would be bolted and barred and securely closed forever. But he just leaned back, with all his weight, enjoying that it had no impact at all on Negan's secure stand.

"That's right boy." Dark words vibrating from deep inside a broad chest. "That's your place. Right here." Negan leaned his bat next to the small pile of clothes against the wall, using the free arm to wrap it tight around Daryl, almost squeezing painfully, holding the man's arms close to his body. "You did an awesome job undressing. I knew you can do it for me." He dug his nose into the side of Daryl's neck, sniffing the warm skin soundly. "Love seeing you naked." 

Daryl was dizzy. He opened his eyes and immediately shut them again when everything was spinning. He let his head fall back against Negan's shoulder, heard his own heavy breathing, feeling proud and safe and anxious all at the same time. The strong arms around his body, holding him almost too tight to breathe, the tall body pressing like a protective barrier in his backside, the dark, even voice next to his ear, it all made him feel like being someone special, someone good, someone worth the words and time and effort. It made him feel like being a real someone, for the first time ever.

Negan moved his hips forward. "Whose are you."

Daryl huffed a sigh, wanting to answer, but in the end just turned his head to graze his lips over the skin of Negan's neck, breathing against it.

Negan growled in satisfaction. "Good boy. You are mine, right?" He moved his hips again, rubbing his cock against a bare ass.

Daryl nodded his head, pushing his butt back without thinking.

A broad hand slid down between Daryl's legs, grabbing his thigh to pull him even closer. "Yes, you are." Negan cupped the man's balls in his hand, lifting them slightly before he gave a not too gentle squeeze. "You are also very sorry for eating my fucking dinner and disobeying my orders." He squeezed again with an additional tug. "Right?"

Daryl tried to move his arms, wanting to stop the rough treatment, but Negan just held him tighter. 

"You know it doesn't work that way." He tugged again, squeezing harder, feeling Daryl struggle in his secure hold. "You know you have to be good." The ruthless fingers loosened their grip and Negan tilted his head, rubbing his chin and jawbone over Daryl's hair. "I know you want to be good for me. Isn't that right boy." He felt the other man relax instantly and let go of him, taking his arms off, speaking into Daryl's ear. "That's why you will apologize." He paused a moment, letting the information sink in. "Right?" He stepped back, breaking contact, seeing how Daryl lowered his head and shoulders dejectedly. "You want to apologize?"

Daryl wanted to. He felt cold and heavy without the secure arms around him. He missed the protective body covering his back. But the big lump in his throat didn't let him speak and made it difficult to breathe. He stared at his bare feet, searching for words and his voice, but neither of them came out.

Negan didn't comment on it, just combed his fingers once through the long strands of hair at the back of Daryl's head, then took Lucille, placed her next to the door frame and went off, vanishing into the half dark of the room, out of Daryl's presence.

Daryl turned his head to search for the other man, discomfiture and insecurity taking over immediately. 

"I said face to the wall." 

The voice came from greater distance, and Daryl felt his heart rate speed up. He looked back to the wall, listening for any sounds he could catch. Cushioned footsteps on the carpet, something being put on the desk, a bottle being opened, a glass being filled. It made him nervous. He wanted to turn around, he wanted to wear clothes, he wanted to say sorry and wanted Negan to come back. He huffed a nervous breath, looking again over his shoulder, scanning the dimly lit room.

"It doesn't matter if I'm right next to you or not. You do as I say at all times." Negan told him, walking up to Daryl, but kept an arm's length distance. "Face to the wall." 

Daryl felt hot and ill. He turned to the wall again, lowering his gaze, feeling like the thick grey carpet underneath his naked feet would move.

"That's better." Negan touched Daryl's naked back with the bottom edge of the bourbon glass he was holding, tracing the sensitive skin over the spine, making the man flinch with the unfamiliar object. "You want to apologize now?"

Daryl shifted on his feet nervously, nodding his head. But it took him almost a full minute until a rough, quiet, "'m sorry." came out of his mouth.

"What are you sorry for, boy?" Negan moved closer, additionally brushing two of his fingers alongside Daryl's back. "Tell me."

"' didn't stay here."

Negan waited patiently, moving the hand with the glass up and down Daryl's spine.

"I ate the food." Daryl added quietly, goosebumps breaking out all over his skin.

Negan gave a nod. "You were also fucking moping around like the incredible sulk."

Daryl didn't answer and arched his back with a wince, when the hand there started to draw zigzag lines. 

Negan chuckled, bending down, to place the bourbon glass on the floor. "But you did what you were told in the end, so that's okay." He leaned in closer, putting his hands on Daryl's sides, speaking into his ear. "And I like you feisty." He stroked his right hand up and down twice, before it wandered to Daryl's ass, unerringly finding his crack, tracing it with two fingers. "Thank you for the apology. Well done."

Daryl held his breath, clenching his butt cheeks, moving closer to the wall to escape the invading hand.

Unsuccessfully. The fingers pressed between his cheeks, rubbing over his entry. "Ever been fucked, boy?" 

Daryl slapped the hand away, spinning around with a grunt, his breath coming in heavy pants, shame and hurt and fear in his eyes. But there was no getting away, the tall body blocked him, urging him deeper into the corner.

Negan studied Daryl's face and his expression darkened, his lips a thin line, angry eyes flashing at the other man. He reached his hand out and caught Daryl's wrist when a defensive punch was lunged at him. He stepped closer, pressing Daryl into the wall, grasping his chin to tilt it up. "You never worry about it again! Not for one fucking second!" Warm breath, smelling like bourbon hissed against pale pink lips. Negan kissed him roughly, slipping his tongue into Daryl's mouth possessively. He pulled the smaller man against his body, hard and angry, reaching around to cup his ass, pressing two fingers between the cheeks. "This is mine now. That's all you think about from now on."

Daryl stopped fighting in the tight hold, being completely surrounded by Negan, painfully pushed into the hard wall, harsh words in his ear, a demanding mouth on his. He gave up, letting the feeling of safety take over, stopping to think and worry. When the kiss stopped, he dug his face into Negan's bare shoulder, awkwardly putting his arm around the man's side, wanting to hug but didn't know how to start.

Negan did it for him, wrapping an arm around Daryl's waist, lowering his head, rubbing his lips over long strands of hair. "I want you to be my good boy. Turn around again. Face to the wall." He planted a kiss on the top of Daryl's head and stepped back, grabbing his shoulder roughly to turn him around. "Arms up. Put your hands on the wall." He waited impatiently until Daryl obeyed, then nudged against his thigh. "Legs apart."

Daryl did after a moment, looking back over his shoulder anxiously.

Negan met his worried gaze, smiling faintly. He reached down for his glass, drinking a sip, then bathed a finger in the liquid, splashing it around soundly, before he put the glass back down on the floor. "You defiant little shit, just need to test the borders, right?" He chuckled with a shake of his head, then held the bourbon finger in front of Daryl's lips. "At least do something useful while you're looking in the wrong direction."

Daryl opened his mouth, cautiously sucking at the finger, feeling it move around against his tongue seductively.

"Wet it for me. We need the real good, thick spit." Negan watched with a devilish smirk, reaching down with the other hand to caress Daryl's ass, sliding further down to cup his balls. "Love seeing your balls hanging. Fucking hot." Then he let go and spread Daryl's ass cheeks, rubbing up and down with his middle finger. He cocked his eyebrows, nodding at Daryl. "Definitely mine." He pulled his saliva coated finger from pale pink lips, "Face to the wall boy." and probed it over the tight ring of muscle, circling it, pushing softly against it, moving closer to Daryl when he felt the man tensing up. He nuzzled the back of his neck. "Feels really good. You want to try taking my finger? Want to feel it inside you?" 

Daryl shook his head vehemently, his arms trembling. 

Negan smiled, circling his finger a last time and then pulled it off, instead moving completely behind Daryl, covering his entire backside with his body, wrapping his arms tight around him, sucking the sensitive skin of Daryl's neck between his lips, biting lightly, nudging his bare erection against the crease of Daryl's ass. "That better?" He got a raspy moan for an answer, the other man almost going limp in his arms. "Good boy. Focus on me." He moved his hips, letting one hand slide to Daryl's cock, stroking it, loving the small whimpering sounds escaping his lips. "Feel my dick at your ass, boy?" He rocked his hips with emphasis, smearing some pre-cum along the delicate skin. "Almost where it belongs."

Daryl felt his knees buckle and bit on his quivering lower lip, having trouble to hold his arms steady at the wall. He looked down, seeing Negan's palm glide over the head of his penis, then gripping the shaft, sliding up and down, twisting his hand in between. Daryl blinked and exhaled, feeling his skin prickle. He leaned his head back against a broad shoulder, closing his eyes, pushing his ass back against Negan's erection, while a firm thumb massaged the slick tip of his own penis. His head felt light, his pulse was loud in his ears. He turned his head to the side, his mouth searching for contact to Negan's skin and found a jawbone and a rough beard, rubbing his nose against it, hiding his face at Negan's warm neck.

"Give me your tongue." Negan ordered, angling his head for a wet, open mouthed kiss from behind that turned almost violent when Daryl panted into his mouth with a groan. Negan slid his hand again over Daryl's cock, collecting pre-cum, and then reached down to smear his slick fingers between the man's ass cheeks, rubbing up and down his crack, massaging his rear entry with pressure. He deepened the kiss, holding Daryl's head firmly in place, and pushed the tip of his middle fingers against the tight ring of muscle, rubbing the wetness in and pressing through, pulling out and sinking back in a second later, deeper this time.

Daryl winced and froze when he felt something wet wedge its way inside him, he breathed soundly through his nose, digging his fingernails into the wall.

Negan didn't pull back, just wiggled his finger a bit. "It's mine now." A soft, dark voice purred against pale pink lips. "That's all you'll be thinking about." He kissed down Daryl's face, the side of his neck, planting wet kisses on his shoulder, moving his finger slowly in and out, using some of his own pre-cum to keep the entrance lubed. "Good job, Daryl."

Daryl braced his arms against the wall, trying to get his breathing under control. His knees felt weak and he put his legs a bit wider apart, searching a more steady footing. He gasped when the finger pushed in again, all the way, twisting inside him, rubbing his inner walls. He let his head sink between his arms, feeling Negan's other hand soothingly massaging his butt cheek.

"Fucking proud of you." Negan spoke against the back of Daryl's neck, rubbing his nose into long strands of hair. "You want to try a second?" He rubbed another digit along the slick hole teasingly. 

A small wailing sound escaped Daryl's throat and he shook his head.

"But I know you can do it." A deep voice reassured and all fingers left Daryl's ass. "You wanna try for me?" Negan brought his fore- and index finger up to his mouth, spit on them and reached back down to massage the smooth entrance muscle. He rubbed with pressure, pushing carefully inside, just a bit and pulled out again, massaging more, until he went in again, earning a grunt as response and trembling legs. "That's my boy, good job." He took his time to move the pair of fingers back and forth, wiggling them, hooking them to rub Daryl's insides. He looked down, spreading Daryl's cheeks with his free hand for a better view and eventually squatted down for a closer look, watching with delight when his fingers disappeared into the the slick, pink hole.

Daryl looked back over his shoulder nervously, clenching his butt.

"Daryl." Negan scolded in a more serious voice. "Face to the wall." He spread the man's ass with three fingers, to see his other two sliding in and out a few times. Then he pushed them in deep, twisting them a bit, rubbing over the swollen bump he found, applying some pressure.

Daryl gasped and took a hand off the wall to grab between his legs in bewilderment. 

Negan moaned darkly, "Yeah, good boy. You like that, don't you. But you can't touch yourself. Hand on the wall." He leaned in to briefly lick the spot where his fingers vanished inside the pink flesh, then pulled them out slowly, adoring the sight when the small hole twitched with the emptiness. "Fucking gorgeous." He licked it with broad tongue, listening to Daryl's desperate breathing, then he spit directly on the entrance, rubbing his saliva in with two fingers, shoving them in deep, directly over Daryl's prostate, massaging the spot expertly. "Look at you, being so good for me."

Daryl sobbed soundless, his arms shaking, leaning his forehead against the wall, the overload on sensations made him dizzy and too hot. He pushed back on Negan's hand, feeling thick beads of pre-cum dropping on the grey carpet.

"Good boy." Negan cooed, pumping his fingers a bit faster, his dark eyes full of lust. "Does that feel nice?" He got up, licking Daryl's neck, speaking huskily into his ear. "Are you trying to fuck yourself on my hand?" He spread his fingers, twisting them around, then hitting the prostate again, making Daryl's back arch and his legs quiver. "So damn fucking responsive." Negan growled, as he felt the muscles tighten around his fingers when he pushed in deep and hard, massaging the inner walls on a steady pace, hitting the prostate every time. "Don't hold back, boy. I want to hear you."

Daryl felt like crying and falling apart. A sheen of sweat breaking out over his body. He felt tense and weightless at the same time, wanting to escape, but pushed back even harder, unable to find release. He mewled and whimpered, when Negan spit again on his hand, inserting a third finger and using his thumb to massage the sensitive spot between his hole and balls at the same time. Pressing down hard.

"Look down." Negan groaned wantonly. "What's happening there, boy." He stepped back a bit, indulging in the sight of a steady stream of pre-cum dripping down on the floor. "That's one hell of a puddle you're making." He twisted his fingers, spread them, pulled them completely out and pushed them back in, making Daryl moan loudly. "Good job. Let me hear how much you like it." He pressed the prostate one last time before he pulled his hand off, standing flush with Daryl's backside, sliding his hard cock through a wet ass crack, wrapping an arm tightly around Daryl's waist, stroking the man's dripping erection with the other hand. "You want to ask if you may come?" Negan gave Daryl's cock a tug, nuzzling the side of his face. "Or do you want me to come?" He rocked his hips against Daryl's ass sensually. "You need to answer now."

Daryl let himself sink back against the tall man holding him, feeling his heat, smelling him, hearing his voice, feeling a hard penis rub over his entry teasingly and a firm hand stroking between his legs. It made his vision fade and breathing difficult. His brain didn't cooperate, nor did his mouth. But Negan understood the small word he murmured. "You."

"Good boy!" Negan kissed Daryl's ear, wet and open mouthed, giving it a possessive lick. "Want to please me so bad, right?" He released the other man, taking his arms, guiding them behind his back. "Spread your ass for me. Give me something nice to look at."

Daryl felt his skin flush, heat crawling through his entire body. He inhaled and felt his hands tremble, but he put them on his butt cheeks, parting them, widening his stand a bit more, leaning his forehead against the cold wall, his heart pounding heavy in his chest.

"Yeah, that's right." Negan grunted hungrily, stroking himself. "Fucking nice job, Daryl." He stepped closer after of a moment of admiration, rubbing the wet head of his cock against the other man's ass, nudging it against the sensitive entrance, making Daryl's breath hitch. "If you had any idea how fucking hot you are like this." He pushed again, almost too much, almost inside, but pulled back in the last second, continuing to stroke himself. "Makes me want to fuck you so bad right now." He panted, his voice sounding harsh and deep and frustrated. "Your ass is fucking perfect." With three final strokes he came intensely, a loud groan rumbling from deep in his throat, cursing and shuddering, coating Daryl's buttocks with warm liquid, making it trickle down between them. 

He moved closer, rubbing his spent cock on the slick skin, watching with dazed eyes how thick semen ran down Daryl's balls and thighs, chuckling quietly when Daryl looked back over his shoulder with a shy expression. 

Negan smirked, taking the man's hands off his ass, touching his shoulder to turn him around, pinning him against the wall, standing chest to chest. "That was great." He licked his lower lip, cocking his head. "Thank you very much." 

Daryl averted his eyes, embarrassment flushing his face.

Negan grasped his chin, tilting his head up. "You wanted me to fuck you, isn't that right boy?" He didn't get an answer, just a silent stare through sweaty strands of hair, and after a long time a denying shake of the head. Negan stared back, a slight smile on his lips when he moved even closer, almost brushing Daryl's face with his mouth. "Naughty boy. You know what happened to Pinocchio." He kissed pale pink lips, sliding his tongue between, holding Daryl's head securely with both hands, not leaving him any room between his body and the wall. He pulled back, touching the man's wet glistening lips with his thumb, looking serious at him. "I will next time. If you ask for it."

Daryl wanted to stay right in this position for the rest of the night, feeling safe hands and a rough beard on his face, a firm body pressing him in a solid wall, dark eyes on him that were able to see the truth no matter what his mouth said or his brain tried to think. He nodded slightly and was rewarded by another smile and a further kiss, before Negan stepped back, giving the side of Daryl's thigh a little squeeze.

"Chop, chop boy, it's late. Clean that ass shaped cum stain off my wall, and come to bed."

\----

Daryl spent the remaining 51 minutes of day 244 and the rest of the night sleeping like a log, in a large comfortable bed, stark naked, with a slightly sore butt and a safe hand on his head. Smelling like Negan from head to toe.


	16. Freedom

On day 248, the Sanctuary's mop guy worked for hours on a highly damaged truck engine, and brought it back to life just in time for a bigger tour. A nameless man gave him a pat on the back, another one a high five, while calling him Daryl.

On day 251, Daryl went to Rosemary. Not to read or get a grammar lesson, but to bring her a handful of dandelions he had found by the fence. She gave him a huge smile and a kiss on the cheek in return.

On day 255, Anna, the pregnant laundry woman, suffered from a terrible cold. Daryl took over her shift, folding clothes and washing sheets and towels for almost nine hours. He shrugged his shoulders when she thanked him.

On day 257, the storage had a rat problem. Two nameless Saviors stood on a big metal container of flour, seeking shelter, while the man killing rat number thirteen with a crossbow, rolled his eyes, telling them, "Come on people, what the hell..." 

On day 260, Daryl Dixon cooked perfect scrambled eggs for breakfast, not a single piece of egg shell landing in the bowl. He served them at 8:02 AM in the dining hall to three people sitting at a spotless table. He got a rewarding "Damn great job, boy!" while leather clad fingers combed through long strands of hair. The proud feeling in his belly lasted until lunch time.

On Day 263, Daryl watched a movie on TV for the first time since the outbreak. The old dvd player provided bad quality and the nameless man sitting next to him just didn't stop commenting on how bad ass Bruce Willis was. But Daryl was stunned and spent the night dreaming about rocket ships, asteroids and outer space.

On day 267, Daryl was working in the trading hall and overheard two girls debating whether they should ask for an open spot in Negan's Harem. He charged them ten points too much for a hard-boiled egg and after a short argument threw it right at one of their heads, causing a heavily bleeding cut. He refused to apologize and therefore spent the next three and a half hours in the corner of Negan's private room, facing the wall. He didn't mind, because the leather jacket hung over the desk chair, Lucille leaned next to the door frame and Negan took a nap, alone in his bed, opening his dark eyes every time Daryl moved a finger.

On day 271, Doyle from the Sanctuary's barber shop, told his helper he would cut his hair for free. Because it was just too long and totally out of fashion. Daryl shrugged his shoulders. The tall man entering the room with a baseball bat over the shoulder, threatened to bash the hairdresser's head in, should he dare to go anywhere near Daryl's hair with his fucking scissors.

On day 275, Negan was out for a tour all day and came back in a nasty mood. In the later evening Daryl found him sitting alone in the staircase of building A, absently thudding the tip of Lucille on the concrete stairs. He sat down next to him and after a while in silence, started to tell about that one time when he was seven years old and Merle and his friends were totally stoned and had him stand with his back to the wall, to throw knifes, laughing their asses off every time they nearly hit him. "'T was a shitty day." Daryl said dryly, rubbing his nose with the knuckles of his hand. "But the next day I found ten bucks and a walnut on the street." 

Negan turned his head to look at him, a faint smile making the dimples on his cheeks more prominent. "Are you trying to cheer me up, boy?"

Daryl stared down at his feet, nibbling on the side of his forefinger. "Hh." He shrugged his shoulders.

...and spent the rest of day 275 kneeling on the thick, grey carpet in Negan's private room, between Negan's wide spread legs, licking, sucking and gagging, feeling warm and proud every time he looked up into Negan's ecstatic face.

\----

Day 278 was a rare rainy day. It was cool and smelled like wet soil, twigs and leaves, instead of rotten bodies.

Daryl sat sheltered on the loading dock of building A, letting his bare feet dangle and occasionally stretched his legs out so far, that they were beyond the reach of the roof and thick, cold drops landed on his toes. 

"Mind if I join?"

He looked up startled, instantly grabbing after the small knife he was wearing at his belt, when he looked up and saw a blond man with a bottle of beer in his hand.

"Hey, chill. I come in peace." Dwight sat down next to him with a sigh, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. "Want one?"

Daryl moved a bit to the side, needing far more distance, but after a moment of hesitation took a cigarette from the package, with a quiet, "Hm.", putting it into his mouth.

Dwight held a lighter up, shielding the flame with his hand, watching as Daryl inhaled a few times. Then he lit one for himself, taking some long, slow draws, blowing the smoke out of his nose and mouth. "Nice weather for a change."

Daryl didn't respond, inhaling deeply, happy about the familiar feeling of strong smoke wrapping his lungs into a warm blanket.

"Glad you finally found your place here." Dwight tapped the ash off his cigarette. "It's really not that bad once you get the hang of it."

Daryl didn't know whether he should feel offended, ashamed or happy about the comment, and opted for a silent little shrug of his shoulders.

"I will be out tomorrow." Dwight gave the other man a side glance. "Let me know if you need anything. Can keep my eyes open."

Daryl squinted, taking the cigarette out to exhale. "What do you mean." His question was quiet, his voice sounding rough and irritated.

Dwight shrugged, "Just offering to look out for things you might need while I'm on tour." He took a swig of his beer. "I mean I can go out and you can't. Thought it'd be nice to ask."

"Can go myself if I want anythin'." Daryl shifted around on his butt, noticing how cold the ground was.

Dwight huffed a laugh, tapping the ash off again. "No you can't, man. You're still his prisoner."

Daryl blinked disconcerted, watching as a walker behind the fence got all tangled up in its metal chain. He took the cigarette between his lips, taking a long drag, inhaling deeply. "'m not."

"Then what are you?" Dwight rubbed his fingers over the wet label of his beer bottle, picking at it with his finger nail. "Some kind of pet or something? I mean he sure treats you like a dog." He huffed another laugh, shaking his head.

Daryl didn't answer anymore. Pictures of Dwight with an arrow between the eyes, popping up in his mind.

"Whatever you are, you can't just go out when you feel like it. He'd never let you." Dwight put the empty bottle next to Daryl's thigh, hopping down the loading ramp. "But my offer stands. Let me know if you need anything." He walked off through the rain.

Daryl stared on the wet ground, fumbling with the cigarette, feeling the warm, rough paper between his fingers, an unpleasant lump forming in his throat.

\----

In the late morning of day 279, Negan was on his second cup of coffee, while he went through some documents at his desk. Not looking up for more than forty five minutes.

Daryl shifted on his heels, fighting to keep his back straight. He was kneeling in the middle of the room, still wearing t-shirt and sweatpants, that he got for the night. 

"You need to piss?" Negan asked, signing some papers.

Daryl shook his head slightly. "No."

"Then stop fidgeting around please."

Daryl did, looking up at the tall man sitting at the desk, watching as he turned some pages, obviously searching for a specific entry in his notebook. He bit his lip and cleared his throat quietly, wanting to say something but didn't dare to break the silence. After one minute and a half, he brought out a raspy sounding, "Can I go outside?"

"Where to." Negan switched between two pages, comparing the content.

"Dunno." Daryl shrugged his shoulders, looking down, his fingertips toying with the carpet. "Jus' out."

"Boy." Negan sighed frustrated, closing the book. "Where the fuck do you want to go? I don't need your help outside today."

Daryl looked up, his face serious. "Am I a prisoner?"

Negan stared at him, a slight hint of anger in his dark eyes. "Well, do you feel like a prisoner? If I remember correctly, you slept in my fucking bed tonight, wearing my fucking clothes, after you had my dick down your throat for an fucking hour."

An instant wave of guilt washed through Daryl's body, heat flushing his face when he looked away, wishing he hadn't said anything.

"Speak up, boy. Where do you want to go."

The first thing coming to Daryl's mind was, absolutely nowhere. He wanted to sit right here, going back to the peaceful silence, watching Negan work concentrated, knowing he would look up here and there to check on him, making sure he would still kneel in the right position. 

But he couldn't say that and a part of him wanted to know. "Jus', can I leave if I want to?" Daryl looked at the other man through long strands of hair, and a shot of pain flashed through his chest, when he saw Negan's hurt expression. It lasted just for a second before it was replaced with a stern, resentful face.

Negan gave a slight nod, with a faint smile that looked more bitter than friendly. "You want to leave?"

Daryl thought he didn't want to, and instantly felt guilty about it. He wanted to stop the conversation, he wanted to go back to bed, sleeping with a safe hand on his head, not worrying about anything. But after a moment he shrugged his shoulders, not daring to look up. 

He heard Negan sigh. He heard Negan getting up. He heard Negan walk over to the cabinet and pour a glass of water. He heard him coming him back, and saw Negan squatting down right in front of him, smelling like leather, soap and a faint iron scent. Daryl wanted to hide his face in the rough fabric of dark denims and never speak a single word again for the rest of his life.

"Look at me." The deep voice didn't sound angry. It was soft and controlled and made Daryl raise his head slowly. "Here." Negan held the glass to Daryl's lips, making him drink half of it, before he put it aside. "This place was just an offer." He cupped the side of Daryl's face with a leather clad hand, "I told you, take it or not. It's up to you. I don't force you to be here with me, boy."

Daryl blinked, feeling heat rising up his throat. He wanted Negan to stop talking and turned his head, hiding his face against a smooth leather glove, exhaling soundly.

"If you want to leave, you can." Negan rubbed Daryl's cheek with his thumb, tilting his head when he watched the man fighting with his emotions. "You are not a prisoner anymore."

The words hurt Daryl's ears and made his head spin. How could it suddenly be his decision, whether he stayed at the Sanctuary or not? What happened to his big escape plan and the horrible people making him live and work here? How could he possibly want to stay here if the door was wide open and he was free to go? 

He couldn't speak and couldn't look, just nodded his head and got up to vanish into the bathroom without asking.

\----

Daryl let the water run for almost twenty minutes, trying to wash the wetness off his face. But every time he looked up and saw his reflection, the red lips, puffy eyes, running nose and tousled hair, the awful sting back in his throat started and made his eyes well up again. He threw the spare toothbrush against the mirror, and pressed his forehead against the cool tiles of the wall, trying to breathe. 

He didn't want his old life back. He didn't want to be responsible for ugly Daryl Dixon again. He didn't want to leave the magic, safe bubble that existed only at a certain spot on the thick grey carpet right next to Negan's feet. 

But he couldn't stay if the door was wide open.

After more than an hour, Daryl stepped out of the bathroom with bare feet, wearing just a sweatshirt and dark grey cargo pants. Negan's sweat pants were neatly folded on the chair, along with his t-shirt.

"No shoes?" Negan was back at his desk, looking up briefly from his paper work.

"They're not mine." Daryl tried to look up and was surprised how clear his voice sounded.

Negan put his pen down, got up from his desk and went to pick up the pair of black combat boots, standing next to the bed. He handed them to Daryl. "Take them. And pack food and water."

When Daryl took the shoes, they felt like being filled with rocks. His fingers were sweaty and shaking, and he shook his head, because he didn't want food and water or anything else ever again. He walked to the desk, grabbing his crossbow, but Negan took it out of his hand.

"Allow me." He went to the door, opened it and waited for Daryl to walk through, then accompanied him in silence through an empty corridor, a silent staircase, and through a heavy door, out of the building. He stopped at the gates, gesturing for the guard to leave. 

Daryl stared down at his naked feet, still holding the heavy boots in his shaking fingers.

Negan looked at him with a faint smile, handing him the crossbow. "Who will take care of you from now on?"

Daryl took his weapon, pulling his shoulder up to rub his cheek against. "Me." The small word sounded rough and defiant, but was betrayed by the soundless huff of breath escaping his lips a second later. He let his forehead fall against Negan's chest, feeling the back of his throat tightening and his eyes well up.

Leather clad fingers brushed through his hair and a bearded chin rubbed over the top of his head. "Thank you for your awesome service, boy." 

Negan stepped back to open the heavy gate, watching Daryl walk through it, just the necessary four steps, before stopping on the other side with his back to the huge factory building and everything inside. 

He shut the gate soundly, and walked off with a cold expression, vanishing in his private rooms with a bottle of bourbon.

\----

Daryl Dixon stood barefoot on the asphalt in front of the gates of the Sanctuary, holding a pair of Negan's fantastic combat boots in one hand and his crossbow in the other. He didn't move for a long time, and when he did, he just walked, one foot in front of the other, not knowing where to go, not caring either. 

He stopped after a couple of hours in the middle of the road, when the pain in his feet couldn't be ignored any longer. He sat down, rubbed the dirt off the soles of his feet and put the boots on. He stayed in his spot on the ground until sunset, just sitting there, fighting the urge to run back, trying to feel angry at Negan for giving him a choice, missing the thick grey carpet and the dark cell, hating Merle for not being there anymore.

When he finally got up on his feet again, he left the road, walking towards the near woods, hoping to still blend in and become invisible.

\----

On day one in freedom, Daryl sat behind the trunk of a tree, gnawing on a small twig, thinking it was ridiculous to brush teeth several times a day, especially as long as Negan did.

On day two in freedom, Daryl drank water from a stream and ate some berries that weren't entirely ripe yet, thinking how stupid it was to drink water from a glass that someone else was holding to his mouth.

On day three in freedom, Daryl tried to fall asleep, seeking cover behind some pieces of metal and wood that someone had thrown away a long time ago. He sniffed at his hand and angled his head, trying to sniff at the crook of his neck. But he didn't smell like Negan anymore.

On day four in freedom, a small herd of walkers crossed the woods, and Daryl killed them all. When he looked down on himself, covered in dirt and blood, he thought taking a shower would be a waste of time anyway.

On day five in freedom, Daryl found a rotten cabin and ate his berries at the table, from an old plate, with a dirty fork from the cabinet, not thinking anything.

On day six in freedom, Daryl could smell himself and wrote the word 'filthy' grammatically correct into the dirt on the ground. 

On day seven in freedom, Daryl could have washed himself and his clothes in the river he found. But he didn't. He also shot his crossbow as often as he wanted to and put his shoes off, because he liked being barefoot for a change. He drank as much as he could and pissed against a tree without asking first. He ate a whole rabbit himself, because no one else wanted dinner. He could do whatever he wanted to and wouldn't ask for anything ever again. And no one cared. 

On day eight in freedom, he could see Alexandria in a far distance. The rooftops of the church and the posh houses. It made him feel happy and guilty at the same time. It made him ashamed and ill. It made him feel like he always felt in front of Alexandria's gates. Unworthy and out of place. 

When everyone started a new life there in fancy houses and clean clothes, behaving differently, going back to almost normal routines and their normal selves, all of sudden he didn't fit in anymore. The difference got more than visible. He couldn't live in a fancy house and felt like an idiot sitting at a nice table, using napkins and special glasses for wine. So he wandered around the whole day, pretending to keep the area walker-free. And when he didn't wander around, he sat on one of the porches, getting weird looks from everyone else, along with silly questions about personal hygiene and social gatherings. As long as no one needed his tracking, hunting or fighting skills, he was invisible, not needed. And he knew why. It was the same as before. Before all the world went to hell. He was useless in the normal world, he had nothing to offer to normal people. As much as he tried to fit in, it would never happen. Because no one showed him how. No one cared that much. No one took the time or effort. Not in the old world, not in the new, not ever. He would always be out of place.

On day nine in freedom, Daryl Dixon crouched down next to a broad tree, leaning his forehead against the rough bark. It didn't smell like leather or a faint scent of iron. And when he put his own hand on his head, he could only feel his disgusting hair. No leather clad fingers, no safety, no magic at all. He huffed a soundless sob and knew exactly why no one heard him.

\----

Ten days after the Sanctuary's mop guy was set free, five nameless Saviors fought with a filthy man who just refused to leave the gate. 

Daryl hit one with the crossbow and kicked another against the knee, before a heavy punch sent him to the ground. He heard the men yell around, felt the hard soles of shoes pinning his arms and legs down, and became dizzy for a moment when a strong kick hit his head. He closed his eyes, his ears filtering a specific voice out of all the shouting.

"HEY!" A furious, tall man in leather jacket came closer, pointing his baseball bat at the group of fighting people. "What the FUCK is going on here!"

Two guys pulled Daryl on his feet, giving him a heavy push in the back, making him stumble. "Asshole tried to break in!"

Negan's angry expression changed to cold and serious. He gestured for his men to leave, staring at Daryl, gritting his teeth. "Couldn't you find the way back home?"

Daryl didn't answer. He looked down at his feet, trying to get his breathing under control. His head hurt, his arm was bleeding, his leg ached, but he didn't care, because he made it to the right side of the gate.

"Boy, ain't gonna lie," Negan said, putting the bat over his shoulder. "You look awful. Who ever is in charge of you, is doing a damn lousy job." He stepped a little closer, nudging the bundle of dead squirrels on the ground with his foot. "What's this."

Daryl blinked his eyes nervously, bending down to grab the string with his prey. He held it in Negan's direction with an awkward motion. "'s for you."

Negan didn't take it, but scrutinized the other man for a long time. "Tell me why you are here."

Daryl let his arm sink, as well as his gaze. He felt the muscles of his face starting to tremble and stepped back, defeated. He wanted to say that he missed the tooth brush, and being washed and clean for someone else. He wanted to say that he liked to drink from a glass that was held to his mouth. He wanted to go on reading and learning and serving food in exchange for a safe hand on his head. He wanted to say that he liked to follow rules and that doing things for others made him happy. He wanted to apologize. He wanted to explain that he liked to go outside and be in the woods, but that he needed the safe boundaries that Negan provided, to feel quiet and okay somehow. He needed his place back. The only place he ever fit in to.

But he didn't say any of it. He didn't have to. Because like magic, Negan had known all of it from the very beginning. Without asking, without being told, he just saw and knew.

So Daryl just crouched down to the ground, trying to kneel as best as he could with his hurting leg, covering his face with the dirty sleeve of his sweater, exhaling a shaky breath.

Negan watched him and after a while, went closer.

Instantly, Daryl let his forehead sink against Negan's leg, his fingers clutching the fabric of his pants, holding on to it for dear life. He felt warm tears running down his cheeks and nose, his throat growing painfully hot and tight.

Negan looked down, seeing Daryl's body heave in almost soundless sobs, and he placed a hand on his head, combing bare fingers through filthy, long strands of hair. "Now you know it better." 

It wasn't a question but Daryl nodded anyway, and found the courage to speak hoarsely into the slightly damp fabric of dark pants. "Can I stay?"

Negan didn't smile and his tone was stern, when he corrected the sentence. "Am I allowed to stay with you." 

Daryl exhaled, pushing his face deeper into the man's pants, feeling like he was supposed to recite a text in foreign language. But a broad hand cupped the back of his head and a firm thumb stroked his hair soothingly, so he tried his best. "'m I allowed to stay with you." He said it quietly and rubbed his nose into the rough fabric of Negan's pants, knowing exactly how the skin underneath smelled and looked and tasted. 

"Good job, Daryl." Negan's hand slid down Daryl's neck, around to his jaw, grasping it tightly, tilting his head up, giving the man a strict look. "We will discuss it. Now take your stuff inside and wait in your room, please."

Daryl felt a pang in his heart, his stomach getting hot, his chest too tight to breathe. He averted his eyes immediately, feeling like the most stupid, ugliest person on earth. He got to his feet, grabbing his crossbow and the string with his prey, wishing Negan would stop watching him. He looked around, not sure where to go for a moment, before he found an open door and went towards it, shame flooding his body with every step.

"Boy." 

The dark voice made him stop but not turn around. 

"I believe you said these are mine." Negan walked up close to Daryl, taking the dead squirrels out of his hand, speaking next to his ear. "Thank you. Now please wait in your room."

Daryl closed his eyes for a second, trying very hard to look strong and defiant. He nodded, murmuring a small, "Hm." and went through the door, into a random building of the Sanctuary, not caring which one, as long as he was out of sight and invisible to the rest of the world.

\---- 

On day 1 back at the Sanctuary, Daryl Dixon sat on the edge of his bed, in his small apartment, his crossbow lying next to him on the mattress. He stared down on the floor, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in his head, trying to figure out why he thought he could just come back and be forgiven. Why Negan would still want him. Why Negan would really need someone like him.

After more than two hours, his headache won, and he was lying down, putting a pillow over his head. After more than three hours, he fell asleep.

After more than five hours, he woke up when the hard tip of a baseball bat poked into his leg.

"Why are you wearing fucking shoes in bed. I told you we do not sleep like vagrants in this house." 

Daryl looked up startled, trying to focus.

Negan shoved his feet off the mattress, gesturing with two fingers. "Sit up please."

Daryl did, still slightly disoriented after being pulled out of deep sleep. 

A leather clad hand touched his chin, guiding it up, tilting his head from left to right, inspecting the growing bruise, vaguely shaped like a shoe print. "Does your head hurt?"

Daryl shrugged and then murmured a quiet, "'bit."

"Are you dizzy?" Negan got no answer and took his hand off, grabbing the crossbow, nudging it into Daryl's upper arm. "Get up. Go to my room. I will be there in a minute." He left the small apartment, taking the weapon with him, leaving the door open.

Daryl looked after him, noticing the familiar leathery scent still lingering in the air. And he got up, feeling dizzy, his head throbbing in pain, clinging to the fact that he was allowed to go back to the only room of the building he felt really good and safe in.

He walked out of the door, through an empty hallway, around a corner, into the dining hall, up the stairs, over the gallery, inside a cold staircase, through a heavy door with a big A painted on. The corridor was quiet, the wall lamps were on as always, every step was cushioned by thick grey carpeting. The dark wooden door to Negan's private rooms was closed and Daryl's heart sped up a little when he touched the handle. It was warm inside and smelled like bourbon and everything that was Negan. He closed the door and looked around, seeing an empty tray on the coffee table, a bottle of alcohol on the nightstand and an almost empty glass next to it. The desk was overflowing with papers and folders, a women's bra lay next to the bed on the floor, making his stomach clench with sickness immediately.

He made a few steps closer to the desk and just stopped there, standing in the middle of the room, staring down on the carpet and his dirty shoes. After a while he heard Negan coming back, heard when he leaned his baseball bat and the crossbow next to the door frame, saw when he walked past him to the cabinet, pouring a glass of water, saw him walking back, stopping right in front of him. Holding out the glass of water and a small white pill, both a million miles away from his mouth.

He didn't want to take it into his own hands. Touching the glass himself made his throat tight and his chest hurt. But it was all that Negan offered. He grabbed it with slightly shaking fingers, accepting the pill, swallowing it, not caring what it was for, drinking a sip of water just because he was supposed to. He handed the glass back, not able to look up.

Negan drank the rest himself and placed the empty glass on the desk. "Go sit down." He pointed to the arm chair opposite from the black leather sofa.

Daryl felt ill. He didn't want to sit there, it wasn't his place. But it was all he got, so he did as told, feeling a comfortable cushion underneath his bum, feeling strange because he was sitting much too high and didn't know what to do with his hands.

Negan got himself a glass of Scotch from the cabinet and took a seat on the couch, leaning forward, folding his hands on his spread knees, watching the other man who looked like a picture of misery. "Have you been home with your group?"

Daryl shook his head, figuring it was the truth, since he just had a look from the distance.

"Could you not find it? Do you want me to take you by car?"

Daryl looked up through long strands of hair, confused and hurt by the offer. "No."

Negan nodded, taking a sip of his Scotch. "Then tell me what you want, Daryl."

Daryl stared at the other man, exhaling soundless after a moment when he couldn't find the right words, fumbling with his fingers.

"Well? You said you want to stay with me." Negan tilted his head. "Why?"

Daryl lowered his head, remaining silent for a long time, before he mumbled a cautious answer. "For my place."

"You want your place back?" Negan waited patiently for an affirmative nod and mimicked it, sucking his lips in, licking them. "You should know that you can't jump on and off as you like. First one was free. But if you claim your place now, it is final." His face grew as serious as his tone. "Leave again and there won't be a way back. No exceptions." He arched his brows, making sure he had full attention. "Is that understood?"

Daryl nodded, doing a little flick of his head to get the hair out of his sight. "Yeah." 

He earned a stern look. "Will you also try your very best to speak in full sentences as I fucking asked you to weeks ago?"

"Yes." It was a quietly mumbled answer in rough voice, but a hundred percent true. "'ll try."

Negan stared at the other man for a minute, then leaned back, spreading his legs a bit more. He gestured with his hand. "Go, get me a bottle of water and come here."

A flash of electricity shot through Daryl's lower abdomen when got up, feeling like a dozen judging eyes were on him, as he walked to the cabinet. He needed a moment to open it and had to bend down to find a bottle of water. On his way back, he briefly glanced up at Negan, just to immediately look back down, nervous from the way the other man was just sitting there, watching him in silence, unblinking, focused on each of his movements. He held out the bottle, heat rising up in his body.

Negan accepted it, not taking his eyes off Daryl when he unscrewed the cap, taking a sip, absolutely straight-faced. "Here." He pointed to the free space between his legs.

The clear order made Daryl freeze and hold his breath. He did half of a step back, raising an arm in front of his chest, looking at Negan's face, silently wishing for an easier task. 

But Negan just waited with a firm stare. So he went slowly closer, his heart drumming in his chest, awkwardly crouching down in the offered place, his back as round as possible, listening to his own ragged breathing when he bowed his head.

"Well done." The small praise was low and dark, with soft undertones. And a moment later, leather clad fingers grasped his chin, moving it up to create eye contact. "Sit on your heels, Daryl. Straight back."

Daryl moved into the required position, fighting hard to keep his eyes up.

Negan surveyed the result, touching the man's shoulder to correct the posture a little. "Hands behind your back. Eyes on me."

Blue eyes flickered anxiously, blinking up into Negan's face, arms moving with a soundless huff of breath behind a perfectly straightened back.

For a while Negan said nothing, just squinted one eye, offering a tiny smile, studying the wary face, smudges of dirt, blood and sweat all over, a small scratch above the nose, a large bruise on the side, from temple to jawbone. He took a sticky strand of hair, moving it behind a pale ear. "Freedom can be kind of hard, right." There was no answer, only more guilt and shame washing over the beaten features. Negan cupped the bruised side of Daryl's face with his hand, watching when the man leaned into the touch immediately. "Don't think about it anymore. It was a learning experience. Now it's done."

Daryl wanted to nod and say something, but just turned his head, hiding his face in the smooth material of a leather glove, rubbing his nose into it, parting his lips with a sigh.

"Did you like to take care of yourself?" Negan stroked his thumb soothingly over Daryl's jaw, hearing an almost inaudible mumbled, "No." muffled by his hand. He gave a slight nod, pulling his fingers off, grasping Daryl's chin to move his head, giving him a serious look. "You need me to take over again, boy?"

Daryl stared back, his eyes darting nervously before he nodded his head as much as he could in the firm grip of leather clad fingers.

"Yes?" Negan copied the gesture, still demanding eye contact, speaking in a clear, strict tone. "You want to live by my rules and follow my orders? No back talking?" He arched his brows not allowing the other man to look away. "You want to serve me like a good boy?"

Daryl nodded again as best as he was able to, exhaling soundly, fumbling with his fingers behind his back, stressed by all the questions and the forced eye contact.

"Yes?" Negan emphasized the word, tightening his grip a bit. "You want to please me, Daryl? Make me proud?"

"Yes." It was very quietly spoken, but Daryl meant it. He shut is eyes for a second, the intense stare of dark eyes becoming too much, one arm slipping uncontrolled to his side and was hectically put back behind his back.

Negan, took his hand off, releasing Daryl's jaw, but holding a finger up in front of his face, as a warning to keep the position. He unscrewed the cap of the water bottle, holding it to pale pink lips, making Daryl drink a good amount, not breaking eye contact. After a moment he pulled the bottle off, waiting for Daryl to take a breath, before he made him drink more, holding his hand under the man's chin for support. "There you go." He put the bottle on the coffee table, enjoying the sight of wet lips. "Better?"

Daryl wiped his mouth with the side of his hand and put his arm behind his back, shifting around a bit to sit up straight again.

"No more shoes and dirty clothes in bed." Negan explained, his voice not loud but deep and authoritative. "You speak in full sentences. You ask for what you want. You report if something is wrong. You don't eat my fucking food without permission. You don't make a mess in my bathroom. You take care of my property at all times." He wasn't happy that Daryl avoided his eyes and snapped his fingers right in front of the man's nose, his tone becoming louder. "YOU FOCUS ON ME. RIGHT?" 

Daryl nodded and so did Negan.

"Damn well right you do! No matter where we are or who else is around, you listen to me, you answer to me, you do what pleases me, you do what you are told, not what you think is right. My word is final." Negan moved a bit closer into Daryl's space, grabbing his jaw again with leather clad fingers, making a pause, letting the information sink in. "You know what happens should you disobey?"

Daryl's gaze dropped immediately, guilt poking his guts. He nodded slightly, pointing a finger in the direction of the wall, and moved his arm behind his back again.

"What happens over there, tell me." Negan didn't get an answer, just watched when Daryl's upper body heaved with heavy, soundless breathing. "You have to stand in the corner with your face to the wall?"

Daryl nodded, feeling bad and ugly.

"Well, I don't know." Negan pinched the other man's chin, sliding his hand up to cup the side of his face gently. "It might be the corner, or another punishment. But a punishment is definitely what follows disobedience." He watched when Daryl nuzzled into the touch and allowed him to close his eyes and keep them shut. "But I know you wanna be good for me. So that's not a problem, right."

Daryl nodded, wanting to be good so very badly, it made his stomach hurt and his chest tight. He turned his head, hiding his face in Negan's hand, kissing the leather clad palm with clumsy lips.

Negan let him do it, pleased with the response. "And you know what happens when you behave well and make me proud, right boy?" He didn't wait for an answer, just moved his hand to the back of Daryl's neck, pulling him closer, guiding his head down, making it rest on his thigh, combing his fingers through dirty strands of hair. "You get a reward and feel good." 

Daryl relaxed instantly, rubbing his nose against the fabric of Negan's pants, glancing up into his face briefly and then buried his face into the man's leather jacket, right above his abdomen. It was surprisingly warm and smelled like safety and Negan. Daryl brought his arms up, wrapping them around the man's waist, moving as close as he could, breathing in deeply, not thinking anything anymore, when a firm hand was placed protectively on the back of his head and deep words rumbled through a broad, solid chest.

"Good boy, Daryl."

\----


	17. Epilog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilog to In place

EPILOG

 

In the evening of day 1, back at the Sanctuary, Daryl stood in the shower of Negan's bathroom, watching as dirty water ran down his body, flowing around his naked feet, vanishing into the drain, and the longer he stared at it, the clearer it became. It was warm and felt good on his tense shoulders. He grabbed a bottle of shower gel, opened the lid and sniffed at it. It was the one that Negan always used and made his stomach tingle. He poured some on his hand and rubbed it over his skin, took some more to use it for his dirty hair, and then a bit extra just because it smelled so good. He rinsed his hair, blinking against the soapy water, spitting a bit out when bitter taste reached his tongue. He turned the water off and wanted to step out of the shower, when a stern voice came from the other room through the open door.

"You're not done. Twice I said."

Daryl pulled his foot guiltily back into the shower stall, flinching when he turned on the tap again and ice cold water hit his skin, fumbling frantically with the faucet handle.

A bare arm reached past him through the running shower, regulating the temperature with a quick movement. "Don't forget your ears." Negan shook the water off his arm, wiping his wet hand into the fabric of his t-shirt and left the room, sitting back down at his desk.

Daryl looked after him, stepping a bit aside to hide his nudity, as he proceeded to clean himself.

\----

Almost a full hour later, Daryl switched off the light and left the fumy bathroom, fully naked. "'m done."

Negan didn't look up from his work. "Cleaned up after yourself?"

"Mh." Daryl nodded, wrapping his arms around his chest, trying to cover his bare skin.

"The door is locked, it is warm," Negan put his pen down, folding his hands over his papers. "And I want you naked because I deserve something nice to look at after a fucking long day of work."

Daryl scratched his bare upper arm, looking unsure through wet strands of hair. 

Negan gave him a faint smile, gesturing to the coffee table. "Rosemary cooked my squirrels. They are very good. You can have what's left." When the other man didn't move, he pointed again with two fingers. "Go sit down and eat."

After a short moment of consideration, Daryl did, crouching down at the small side of the table, pulling his knees up to his chest, trying to shield himself as much as possible. The big plate on the tray was half empty, the remaining meat covered in thick brown gravy, a half eaten slice of bread dipped into it. A small cloud of pride swirled through Daryl's chest at the fact that Negan had not only accepted his gift, but also eaten and liked it. He took a piece of meat, swiped it through the sauce and popped it into his mouth, licking his fingers noisily. 

The stern rebuke followed immediately. "You want to use a fork, boy!" Negan watched as the other man hunched his shoulders and guiltily searched for the cutlery on the table. Apparently he couldn't find the fork, because he grabbed a spoon and hesitantly started to eat with it, even the bread. Negan didn't comment on it, going back to work, just looking up every few minutes to see if Daryl had finished. 

After twenty minutes he was and looked back over his shoulder, his fingers on a glass of water, silently asking for permission.

Negan nodded while signing some papers, the corner of his mouth curling up in a slight smile, pleased with Daryl's behavior. He watched out of the corner of his eye as the man drank and didn't say anything when he wiped his mouth at his bare arm instead of the napkin. "Done?"

"Mh." Daryl nodded satisfied. He had to admit that squirrel tasted a lot better the way Rosemary cooked it, than eating it raw or roasted on a stick over open fire.

"Good." Negan turned a page in his notebook. "Go brush your teeth." 

Daryl got up and vanished into the bathroom. Not closing the door, as he was supposed to.

Negan heard him turn on the water, heard him brush his teeth, he heard him spitting out and rinsing his mouth. And then nodded just for himself, when he heard Daryl clean up the small mess that he had created. "Good boy!" He said it loud enough for the other man to hear and looked up as the bathroom light was switched off. "I'm done in a minute."

Daryl wrapped his arms tightly around his upper body, not sure what to do. He watched Negan sort some papers, searching a specific folder and putting something back into the drawer of his desk. Then he got up from his chair, switched off two lamps to dim the light in the room a bit, drank the rest of his Scotch and sat down on the edge of the bed, holding out a hand tiredly.

"Come here." Negan pinched his nose and spread his legs, waiting patiently for Daryl to step between and then guided him down in a kneeling position. "Very nice, straight back, head up." He held the man's jaw in a tight grip, pulling him closer to inspect his bruised face. "Is your headache better?"

Daryl nodded and held his breath when Negan leaned in to sniff his neck and hair.

"You cleaned up very nicely." Negan released Daryl's jaw, holding a finger up, demanding eye contact. "Report. What have you done to please me today."

Daryl looked up into the close face, feeling his heart sink. "Nothin'." His gaze dropped and a leather clad hand nudged his bare upper arm immediately, reminding him of the correct position.

Negan raised his brows, waiting for nervous blue eyes to focus on his face, before he proceeded. "You washed yourself and cleaned up my bathroom. You took very good care of my shoes while you were out. You brought me dinner." He held his finger up again when Daryl's eyes darted to the side, speaking a bit louder. "You followed my orders without back talking. You behave very respectfully towards me." The corner of Negan's mouth quirked up in a small grin, the tip of his tongue touching his upper lip. "And what pleases me by far the most, boy..." He grasped Daryl's jaw again and leaned in close, his breath brushing the other man's face when he spoke. "You know what you want and came back to claim your place." A small, soft kiss was placed on the side of Daryl's mouth. "Right?" He received a slight nod for an answer and nodded himself, kissing again, the other side this time. "Did you miss kissing me?" He spoke against pale pink lips, touching them teasingly with his tongue. "I sure missed that fucking pretty mouth of yours." He felt a shaky breath hitting his skin and two hands grabbing the fabric of his trouser legs. It made him chuckle, deep and low in his throat, and he slid a firm hand to the back of Daryl's neck, pulling him up, sliding a possessive tongue into the man's mouth, kissing him deep and slow, enjoying the quiet little moan and sigh, and strong fingers grasping his pants tighter.

Daryl knelt up higher, trying to get closer somehow, the taste of Negan's mouth making the soles of his feet tingle and his stomach clench with heat and excitement. He parted his lips a bit more, granting full access, and after a moment found the courage to flick his own tongue into the other man's mouth, swirling it around, rolling it against Negan's, earning a deep groan that shot electricity through his lower abdomen. He angled his head, liking the firm hand gripping the back of his neck, a strong thumb rubbing his skin. His hands came up, stroking up and down Negan's legs, and after a moment gained enough confidence to slide over Negan's thighs, to his crotch, where they stopped because all bravery left him. He exhaled against the other man's wet lips, his pounding heart almost jumping out through his throat.

"Go on." Negan pulled back slightly, their forehead's still touching. "Do it." He kissed Daryl's cheekbone, the side of his mouth and then sat back up straight, giving him a challenging look, "Open my pants."

Daryl stared up through his hair, shame and resistance on his blushed face. He wanted to say no and go back to kissing, but leather clad fingers took hold of his wrist, placing his hand on a noticeable bulge, rubbing it up and down a couple of times. The feeling of warmth and twitching hardness underneath his palm made Daryl's insides flip instantly. He held his breath, his fingers stiffening for a second, before he cautiously touched the belt buckle, looking up nervously for confirmation.

Negan nodded with a serious face, no sign of malice in his eyes. He brushed some long strands of hair out of Daryl's forehead, tugged one behind his ear and watched completely captivated how the man's brows furrowed and a pale pink bottom lip was chewed in utmost concentration, while ten slightly shaking fingers slowly opened his belt and unzipped his pants. "Well done." He reached down to free his erection, stroking himself a few times, loving how Daryl automatically licked his lips. "Good boy, wanting to please me so bad, right." He gathered a bit of wetness from the tip, holding the finger out to offer a taste, his eyes flashing desire when Daryl licked it off without hesitation. "Hands behind your back. Put that fucking wicked mouth where it belongs."

Daryl glanced up briefly, moving his arms obediently behind his back, adjusting his kneeling position a bit and bent down forward, placing an open mouthed kiss on the side of Negan's penis, another one right next to it and then one on the glistening tip, along with a small lick and quiet moan. He closed his eyes, feeling encouraging fingers stroking his jaw, when he parted his lips wide to take Negan in, lapping and sucking slowly with broad tongue and wet lips. 

He took his time, noticing warm, tickling trails of electricity, spreading through his lower belly, to his inner thighs and butt. It made him shift around on his heels and take the hard shaft deeper into his mouth, sucking eagerly, bopping his head up and down, feeling a firm hand on the back of his head, supporting his work.

Negan watched him with dazed eyes, repeatedly brushing hair out of Daryl's face for a better view, groaning hungrily when he pushed the man's head down with pressure, feeling the tip of his cock nudging the back of a tight throat. "All the way, boy." 

Daryl squeezed his eyes shut, tensed and gagged soundly when his throat was stretched. 

"No, you can do it." Strong fingers held him in place for a few seconds and then released him, generously caressing Daryl's face when he quietly gasped for air, swallowed and smacked his lips, looking up through dark blond eyelashes. "Good job, Daryl. Very nice." 

The words of praise were deep and genuine and made Daryl try again immediately. He lowered his head on the wet, throbbing hardness, hollowing his cheeks, lapping down with broad tongue, breathing through his nose shakily and lost the fight against his gag reflex when Negan pushed through the tight muscles of his throat, sinking deeper inside, small curse words praising Daryl's effort. 

Negan's lips parted slightly, his hands combing adoringly through long strands of hair, when he felt Daryl swallowing around him, making the strong throat muscles work on his length, before he pulled off to take a deep breath, looking up for a sign of affirmation. "That's my boy." Negan grabbed the man's head and bend down for an open mouthed, sloppy kiss, moaning when he lapped the talented inside of Daryl's mouth. He kept kissing while he took hold of the buckle of his belt, pulling it slowly out of his wide open pants, placing it behind the man's neck, sweeping his tongue over a wet lower lip, biting it teasingly, tugging it slightly. "Whose are you..." He licked the corner of Daryl's mouth, kissing it softly, while he put the belt around the man's neck, slipping the end through the buckle, tightening the loop. "Tell me." 

Daryl tensed, jerking back a little, automatically reaching for the unfamiliar object, trying to pull it off.

"No." Negan nudged Daryl's leg with the side of his foot. "Hands behind your back." He wrapped the loose end of the belt a few times around his hand, pulling the man carefully in for a kiss. "Stay close, boy... or it will be too tight to breathe." He licked pale pink lips and flicked his tongue between them for a brief moment. "Right?" Daryl exhaled nervously, giving a faint nod. "Yeah, it is." Negan copied the motion, the corner of his mouth lifting into a slight smile. He leaned back, stroking his cock absently with his free hand, tugging the self-made leash a little, reminding the other man of the need for eye contact. "Whose are you, tell me." 

Daryl shifted in his position,fumbling uneasily with his hands behind his back, staring up at Negan through his long bangs.

"What, you don't remember?" Negan watched the other man for a minute, then tilted his head to the side and unwrapped the belt from his hand, letting it carelessly fall on Daryl's lap, shrugging his shoulders, with a slight smile. "Okay." He got up from the bed, vanishing into the bathroom, closing the door.

Daryl looked after him, horrified by the sudden change of situation. The feeling of illness immediately spread through his body, up to the point where he thought he might have to vomit. His mind racing frantically, his stomach clenching. 

Five minutes after Negan had abandoned him, kneeling in front of the bed in silence, he felt like the only person on the planet. He watched back over his shoulder, looking at the closed bathroom door, and took the loose end of the belt when he got up with weak knees, walking to the door, reaching for the handle. 

"No. That's not how it works." Negan stopped him, before the door was fully open. He was in the midst of taking his shirt off and let it slide down his torso again, with a sigh, his jaw tightened. "A closed door means you are not welcome to enter. Wait outside."

A heavy, cold rock dropped in the middle of Daryl's chest, while a big, hot lump grew in his throat, taking his breath away. He blinked through his tousled hair, stepping back, pulling the door shut with trembling fingers, standing alone on the thick grey carpet, naked, with a belt dangling from his neck. He wanted to say he was sorry, he wanted the bathroom door to be open, he wanted to say whose he was, because he knew exactly. 

He waited for sixteen minutes, his legs feeling as numb as his head. Then the door opened and a tall man stepped out, without leather jacket and baseball bat, but completely naked, with a broad chest and dark eyes boring into his. He walked up to Daryl, stopping right in front of him.

Daryl tried to look up but couldn't hold the judging stare for more than a second, before he had to drop his gaze, his lower lip quivering slightly. He held up the loose end of the belt pleadingly.

"You want me to hold it?"

The dark, vibrating voice cutting the silence made Daryl's insides melt. He nodded, whispering a soundless, "Yes."

Negan grabbed the belt near the man's neck, pulling him closer. "You remember who you belong to?"

Daryl nodded and didn't ask for permission before he pressed his face into a bare shoulder, placing his shaking hands on Negan's sides. 

A strong arm wrapped around him after a moment, making him stand flush against a warm, safe chest. "Don't you worry, boy." Negan nuzzled long strands of hair, placing a kiss on the top of Daryl's head. He brushed a hand soothingly up and down his back, stopping right above his ass for just a brief moment, before he slid his hand between Daryl's butt cheeks with slight pressure. "I will make you say it."

Daryl exhaled, going limp in Negan's hold, his fingertips digging into the man's sides. He wanted to crawl inside the tall, secure body, and smell like Negan from head to toe forever.

"You are a good boy now and do what you are told." Three fingers rubbed teasingly through Daryl's ass crack, a deep voice rumbling right next to his ear. "Right?"

Daryl nodded, pressing himself against naked skin, brushing his parted lips over a bare shoulder, inhaling Negan's scent. 

"You want to kneel down on the bed for me?" 

Daryl wanted to, but every fiber of his body fought the thought of moving just an inch. Warm breath hit his ear, before smooth lips sucked his earlobe briefly, making him close his eyes and angle his head. 

"You want to kneel down on the bed for me." Negan circled his fingers over the man's rear entrance, pushing softly. "Go on, do it." He licked down the side of Daryl's face, drawing a wet trail to the corner of his mouth, keeping his eyes open when pale pink lips searched desperately for more contact, kissing him with a small whimpering sound. Negan granted him a moment, enjoying the soft, wet mouth on his, kissing back, sharing a breath, before he hooked his fingers into the back of Daryl's belt collar, pulling him back. "Kneel on the bed. Now." He nodded, raising his eyebrows when Daryl gave him a dazed look and reluctantly broke the close contact, making his way to Negan's bed, watching back over his shoulder, searching for confirmation.

"Kneel down, back to me." Negan came closer, watching as the other man hesitantly moved into the required position on the mattress. He stepped behind him, climbing on the bed himself, shoving Daryl a bit forward, kneeling right behind him, adjusting the belt around his neck, making the loose end hang down his back. "Spread your knees." He cupped the man's balls from behind, squeezing a bit, rubbing Daryl's lower back soothingly when he noticed his legs tremble. "Good job. Lean forward, put your head down." He kissed the side of a pale neck softly, and placed a broad hand on Daryl's back, pushing him face down on the mattress. "Keep your ass up. You want to present for me. Show what's mine."

Daryl's chest heaved with ragged breathing, goosebumps breaking out over his skin. He burrowed his face into the blanket, feeling cold and exposed. Firm fingers pushed his back further down, making his chest lie flat on the mattress, while his thighs were moved wider apart and his butt higher up.

"Fucking beautiful." Negan groaned appreciative, tracing the leather belt in the middle of Daryl's back with two fingers, brushing his thumb through a spread ass crack, weighing Daryl's free hanging balls and cock in his hand. "You know the door is locked, right?"

Daryl nodded his head, his fingers cramping into the blanket.

"Yeah, it is." A low, dark rumbling voice confirmed. "And who is the only one here with you?" Negan tugged the leather belt slightly, making it just a bit tighter around the other man's neck. "Tell me."

Daryl exhaled soundly, rubbing his face into the blanket, mumbling quietly. "You." 

"Good boy. Remember that." Negan moved a bit back, sitting on his heels, gently stroking Daryl's naked feet, admiring the sight of a bare ass for a while, before he spread the man's butt cheeks with his thumbs. "Focus on me." He tilted his head and leaned in, giving the exposed hole a slow lick, watching as it contracted instantly. He chuckled quietly and did it again, rolling his tongue against the tense entry, leaving it wet and shiny.

Daryl inhaled startled and looked back over his shoulder.

"Head down, boy." Negan singsonged, not bothering to stop, rubbing his thumb over the spit slicked hole, before he placed an open mouthed kiss on it, licking and sucking with an unashamedly loud moan, pushing the very tip of his tongue inside.

The gush of heat cutting its way from Daryl's lower abdomen straight through his chest, pushed the air out of his lungs with an uncontrollable groan. He got dizzy for a moment, not sure how to categorize the things he felt. 

Negan put a foot up and took Daryl's hips in a firm grip, pulling the man's ass against his face, swirling his tongue around the tight ring of muscle, lapping and sucking. In between he pulled back for a moment to have a look at his work, probing his finger over the wet hole, pressing against it, making it twitch. The corner of his mouth quirked up when he heard Daryl pant and whimper into the blanket. "What am I doing here, boy?" He licked again before he let a drip of spit run over Daryl's rear entrance. "Eating out your fucking pretty hole?" 

Daryl held his breath, feeling his face flush when his foggy brain processed the obscene words and feeling of saliva slicking the crease of his bum.

"You have no idea how awesome you taste." Negan massaged the spit with his tongue into Daryl's entry, nipping and sucking with a slurping sound. "You like that, don't you." He pushed the tip of his tongue past the rim, slowly sliding inside, feeling Daryl writhe under him. He pulled back and pushed in again immediately, angling his head for better access, licking the man's inner walls with a muffled moan.

Daryl groaned, thrusting his hips back without thinking, a sheen of sweat breaking out over his skin.

Negan chuckled low in his throat, withdrawing his tongue, spitting again. "I know." He replaced his tongue with a slicked up finger, working it in carefully, rubbing Daryl's lower back with his other hand, when he felt the man tense up. "Good boy, Daryl." He swirled his finger and crooked it, moving it up and down slowly, massaging the outer flesh with his thumb. "You might want to help me here. Spread yourself for me." 

Daryl let out a tormented wailing sound, raising his head weakly for a second just to dig it even deeper into the blanket a second later, when the finger inside him rubbed over a certain spot, making his toes curl and his jaw tremble. 

Negan smiled faintly, pleased with the response, not stopping to move his finger. "Go on. Put your hands on your ass." 

Daryl groaned, feeling like a thousand ants would crawl through his arms, when he moved them back and placed shaky fingers on his buttocks.

"Good job!" The praising words were dark and deep and intensified by a shameless wet mouth, kissing and licking his obedient fingers and the ass cheeks underneath, before it worked its way to his wide open crack, wetting the place where a finger moved expertly in and out of a pink hole.

Daryl breathed rapidly, his muscles starting to quiver with the unfamiliar position and then he gasped and arched his back, when a second finger wiggled its way through his entrance, instantly finding the spot of most pleasure. 

"Look at you, leaking on my bed so nicely." The satisfaction in Negan' s voice was unmistakable when he twisted his fingers inside Daryl, making the man's dripping penis twitch. He grabbed it, gathering a good amount of pre-cum and then leaned down to lick the glistening head himself, sucking soundly with a loud grunt. He shook his head when he sat back up again, pushing his fingers in to the maximum, rubbing them hard over Daryl's prostate, grasping his hip harshly with the free hand. "Fucking unreal how responsive you are."

Daryl turned his head to the side, having difficulties to get enough air into his lungs, grinding back against Negan's fingers as much as he could, feeling his hands slip from his butt cheeks as his skin grew damp with sweat.

Negan pulled his fingers out, watching wantonly how the opening contracted, adjusting to the sudden emptiness. He gave it a broad lick and spit on it, working his fingers back in, twisting and spreading them. "Does that feel nice, boy?" He cooed darkly, giving Daryl's wet cock a tug and squeezed his balls. "You want me to fuck you?" He wiped his thumb through the puddle of pre-cum soaking into the blanket between Daryl's wide spread thighs. "Tell me." He pulled his fingers out slowly, replacing them with his wet thumb, hooking it into the twitching hole, pulling the ring of muscle down a bit, making Daryl's breath hitch and knees buckle. "Good boy, Daryl!" He moved his thumb a bit and brought his other hand up again, pushing his fore- and index finger in as well, loving the small, stressed sounds of despair that Daryl was making, his dark eyes flashing with lust when he watched both of his hands working the wet, pink opening. "Look how fucking good you are for me."

Daryl's hands slipped down and fell on the mattress when his body first tensed and then went limp. He rocked his hips against Negan's fingers, looking back over his shoulder with parted lips and dazed eyes, needing to see the safe face that belonged to the dark voice and wicked hands.

"Show me." Negan gave him a single nod, just the hint of a smile playing around his lips, when he stared into Daryl's eyes, while pulling out his thumb and fingers, leaving his entrance empty and pulsing. "Where do you want me." The right corner of his mouth lifted a bit more, as he grabbed his throbbing, hard cock, stroking himself a couple of times, making sure to touch the wet tip against Daryl's ass cheek. "You want my dick up your perfect ass?" He rubbed his penis through the crease of Daryl's butt, up and down, his eyes glinting with delight when he saw Daryl's face contorting in pleasure. He nudged the tip against Daryl's twitching hole, pushing teasingly, twice, before he pulled back again. "Show me. Where."

Daryl looked away, huffing a raspy sob into the blanket when Negan rubbed his erection again over his rear entry, pressing against, almost through but not quite, before he pulled back. He wanted to ask for it to happen, but nothing close to a real audible word left his mouth. 

"No. You will show me." Negan took the end of the belt, wrapping it once around his hand, tugging it hard when Daryl rocked his hips back, trying to find relief. "Look at me."

Daryl obeyed, turning his head, fighting to keep his eyes open and focused. He saw Negan tilting his head, saw him parting his lips slightly, saw the arousal in his dark eyes, saw him holding the self-made leash in a firm hand, felt him rub his hard, slick cock against his throbbing hole. And he reached back with one arm, grabbing his right butt cheek and touched his fingertips to his wet entrance, aching with need.

"Good boy." Negan nodded, not taking his eyes from Daryl's flushed face. "That's where you want me to be, right." He reached between the man's legs, stroking his dripping shaft a few times, gathering thick drops of pre-cum on his fingers and smeared it around the pulsing hole, then pressed against it with the head of his cock, rolling his hips slightly, slowly pushing inside.

Daryl inhaled sharply and held his breath, a burning pain making him freeze and pull back. 

"Ssh." Negan held him in place, shaking his head calmly, keeping the very tip of his erection inside the other man. "Don't do that. Focus on me." He rubbed Daryl's lower back, keeping the belt tight, pulling it a little. "I want you to push out." He saw Daryl's chest heave, heard him panting and massaged his ass cheek soothingly when he felt the outer ring of muscle open up, felt Daryl pushing out as he was told. "That's my boy, being so good for me."

The words of praise were calm and clear and Daryl buried his head into the blanket when Negan pressed inside him, making his legs tremble and his heart stop. It felt too big, too much, too strange. Hot and cold and painful all at the same time. And then everything stopped and he was just there, like in the middle of his body, erasing all other thoughts and feelings because nothing else was existent anymore. 

Daryl blinked his eyes, hearing a dark voice curse and growl in appreciation, feeling a strong hand kneading his buttocks, feeling so full and stretched and his insides hot and pulsing around it. The belt on his neck was just a bit too tight and he hoped it would stay like that forever. He breathed in deeply, hearing himself groan in a tone that was new to his own ears, when Negan pulled back a bit and pressed slowly in again, repeating the action a few times, holding his hips in a vice like grip. Taking charge of his body, making him feel light and special, invaded and owned. He tilted his hips, thrusting back with Negan's next stroke, making the man chuckle and curse huskily.

"Fucking good boy." Negan looked down, watching his own cock disappear in Daryl's body, and tilted his head back in pleasure, when the tight muscles gripped him, pulling him deeper. "Go on. Move that beautiful tight ass."

Daryl did, leaning on his forearms for support, breathing damp breath against the side of his hand, hearing himself pant, being totally overwhelmed by the feeling of Negan moving in sync with him, sending flashes of heat and weird flutters in all directions. He rolled his pelvis, trying to get even closer and choked out a croaky moan when Negan pulled him down hard, burying himself as deep as possible inside him, holding the position for a moment, grinning widely, shaking his head, "Oh MY!" Negan panted, leaning forward, lying on top of Daryl with his full weight, squishing him into the mattress, never stopping to move his hips, wrapping his arms around Daryl's head and shoulders, planting wet, open mouthed kisses on the side of his sweaty face. "Whose are you!" He growled it deep and almost angry into a pale ear, rocking his hips in a wave like motion against Daryl's ass, not missing a beat. "Fucking say it!"

Daryl dug his fingernails into Negan's arms, breathing against his biceps, feeling a hairy forearm underneath his face, holding him almost in a headlock. A wet tongue on his jaw, his whole body surrounded by the tall, solid body he craved so much. He spread his legs a little, groaning loud when the hardness inside him hit his prostate, making his eyes roll back. 

A firm hand grabbed the self made collar around his neck, pulling. "Whose are you, boy! Tell me!"

Daryl pushed his ass up as much as he could, moving with Negan's hips, parting his lips against the skin of Negan's flexed upper arm, automatically licking it. "Yours."

Negan yanked the belt harshly. "Where's your place!"

"With you." 

"Damn right it is." Negan growled into damp strands of hair, kissing Daryl's temple, licking his ear, panting into it, pounding his hips in a hard rhythm. "Remember that. Feeling me fucking everywhere. From head to toe. Inside and out. Everywhere."

The vibrations of the dark, husky voice and the possessive words, made Daryl feel numb and high, he nuzzled the side of his face against a rough beard and strong lips, humping his erection helplessly against the mattress, with every stroke of Negan's cock.

Negan buried himself deep into Daryl's pulsing entrance, keeping the position, holding still, wrapping his arms tight around the other man, making it almost impossible for him to breathe. "Say my name."

Daryl whimpered, feeling fire pool low in his abdomen, scraping his teeth against a strong, hairy arm, loving the taste of salty skin. "Negan." 

"Good. Boy." A deep, low voice praised him, circling hips sending shock waves through his body. "You want to come on my bed?" Negan licked the corner of Daryl's mouth, rocking his hips rhythmically, panting hard. "You want to come on my bed and sleep in the mess you make all night?"

Daryl felt like passing out, nodding weakly, turning his head as much as he could to reach Negan's mouth, his tongue darting out to lick the man's lips.

"Then do." Negan gave him a wet, sloppy kiss and then licked his neck right above the tight belt, moving his hips, pulling his throbbing cock almost out, just to thrust back in, in a different angle, making Daryl writhe and shudder underneath him when he hit his prostate, repeating the action six times, and then buried himself as deep as he could inside the man's contracting hole when he felt him come. He pushed two fingers past Daryl's trembling lips, feeling him suck needily, hearing him moan and mewl, pounding his hips a few more times hard forward, then loosing his pace when he felt his own climax approach, growling deep in his chest, coming hard.

Daryl's pulse was pounding in his throat, right underneath his belt collar, the rest was faded and blurry, wet and sticky, hot and tingly, his stretched hole still pulsing and contracting. Negan everywhere and all around. His smell and taste and weight. He felt him breathe on top of him, felt his mouth against his neck, felt his arms holding him safe and tight. 

"Did I shoot my load up your pretty ass, boy?" 

Daryl was dizzy and closed his eyes, when a dark silk voice rumbled against his ear. 

"You want to sleep like that? Feel me all night? Tell me."

"Yes." Daryl nodded, feeling light-headed and so ridiculously happy about the filthy offer, it made his stomach clench and his heart flutter at the same time.

"I know." Negan nodded as well, his tone serious and comforting. He stroked long, damp strands of hair out of a flushed face, resting his hand on the side of Daryl's head.

\----

When Daryl drifted off into sleep on day 1 back at the Sanctuary, he brushed his lips against a hairy forearm and couldn't move his leg underneath the heavy body on top of him. And he was a hundred percent sure that he wanted to be right here like this, sticky and sweaty, squished into the mattress, a too tight belt around his neck and a safe hand on his head, smelling like Negan from head to toe.


End file.
